


All This and Heaven Too

by Klavier



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Battle of the Bands, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lack of Communication, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 22:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19327402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klavier/pseuds/Klavier
Summary: Baekhyun clears his throat. “I kissed you because I like you.”There he goes, telling the brave truth. He feels instantaneously lighter. Dirt-speckled water continues to drip across the table, but Baekhyun sits back and watches the reactions move across his roommate's face.Kyungsoo worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Why do you like me? Because you’re lonely?”





	All This and Heaven Too

**Author's Note:**

> This is fluffy and plotless and slice of life, aka all things outside of my comfort zone. I gotta say I really enjoyed writing something happy! This came together very quickly because the baeksoo bug wouldn't leave me alone, so pls forgive the mistakes. Come talk to me on twitter @ klavvrites!!

Baekhyun has a roommate-shaped problem.

It starts with a bad trip. It happens after a show, because everything hellish and undefinable happens after a show. It involves Lu Han, because everything illegal involves Lu Han. It may even be Baekhyun’s fault, because at the end of the day,  _ everything _ is Baekhyun’s fault.

On a foggy November night, he accepts a gummy bear edible from Lu Han in the backstage bathroom of Queenie Dick’s. He remembers intensely the moment he ate it—leaning on the wall next to the urinal while Lu Han laughs at the tile graffiti that reads DRUMMER OF THE BEDAZZLED BEEGLES, CALL ME. There’s a number scrawled underneath. They scrounge for a set of keys and scrawl Chanyeol’s number right back.

“Whoa,” Baekhyun suddenly says, dropping the keys with a clang on the floor. “I don’t feel too good.”

Lu Han retrieves the keys and shoves them into Baekhyun’s back pocket. “Relax, man. You’re okay.”

He’s not so sure. All his joints feel over-lubed and unsteady. Baekhyun concentrates very hard on leaving the bathroom. Flashing lights and pounding music welcome him back onto the floor, but Lu Han doesn’t follow. He can’t see Chanyeol or Jongdae in the whimsical crowd of dancers. Or at the sparse bar.

Then Baekhyun’s entire body is seized with paranoia and he has to immediately take a cab home. It feels wrong to stand. It feels wrong to sit. It feels wrong until he fumbles into the apartment, keys cascading onto the floor and shoes too heavy to lift from the threshold. He’s never had a reaction like this—to be fair, he’s never had any of Lu Han’s homegrown stuff—but it’s still a frightening and overwhelming feeling, to lose control of both mind and body.

Needless to say he doesn’t want to sleep alone, so he crawls into Kyungsoo’s bed and proceeds to have the most damning dream of his life.

In the dream, everything’s the same. Baekhyun skateboards home after class and greets Kyungsoo at the door.

“Hey, man.”

“Hey.”

He takes out the trash. He lights a few herbal candles. He sits on the couch and queues up  _ Baby Driver _ for the thirtieth time.

Then Kyungsoo sits quietly next to him and kisses him.

The worst part is Baekhyun  _ doesn’t wake up _ . The dream suspends itself in that moment, the perfect onset of a kiss, for eternity. He just looks and feels and envelops Kyungsoo, all of him, the essence of him, and in that infinite moment Baekhyun feels religion for the first time. He’s ecstatic and whole. Dream-Kyungsoo is an amazing kisser.

When he wakes up, real-Kyungsoo is not in the bed. There’s a steaming cup of coffee on the desk. The past three years hit him like a freight train. Baekhyun understands with horrific clarity that he is fucked.

  
  


Because Baekhyun has the survival skills of a sloth, he goes straight to Jongdae after class that day.

“No,” Jongdae says as soon as he sees Baekhyun approaching from the other end of the lounge. “I’m in the library, this is a sacred space.”

“Emergency best friend stuff.” Baekhyun slides into the seat across from him and closes the anatomy book. Several nearby nerds look upset by the noise. He whispers, “Future doctor stuff can wait. Please?”

There must be something urgent in his voice, because Jongdae actually listens. He tugs out his earbuds and offers a to-go cup of tea to Baekhyun. Gratefully he accepts and almost chokes on the staggering taste of honey. He can’t even tell which type of tea it was originally.

Jongdae reproachfully takes his tea back. “What’s up?”

“You remember when Kyungsoo and Sehun dated. Why did they break up?”

“ _ What _ ?” Jongdae’s mouth falls open.

“Well, I never got the full story.”

“Why are you asking me and not, I don’t know, Kyungsoo?” Jongdae settles back in his chair, rubbing both eyes, and sighs. His frizzy curls stick up like an electrocuted mop. 

Baekhyun shrugs. He won’t admit to the betrayal of his subconscious. This is purely a reconnaissance mission. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“I don’t remember the details, but Sehun said that Kyungsoo called it off because he wasn’t feeling it. But the breakup was mutual. It was almost a year ago, why are you so curious now?”

“Just thinking about it.” Baekhyun fiddles with a loose thread on his green sweater sleeve. Actually, this might be Kyungsoo’s sweater that he borrowed months ago and never returned. “I haven’t seen Sehun with anyone since. He’s still single, right?”

“Are you interested?”

“No—fuck, no, that’s not what I meant—”

“Are you sure? I can set you two up. Sehun still lived with Chanyeol.”

“ _ Jongdae no please _ —”

Jongdae throws his head back and laughs. “Chill, I’m kidding. Sehun’s into some other kid anyway. He likes them muscular.”

An inappropriate thought about Kyungsoo’s muscles shortly follows that statement. Baekhyun wants to die every moment this conversation continues. He should’ve known better than to come to Jongdae. 

But Jongdae’s not done yet. He leans forward and hisses, “Also,  _ where _ did you go last night? I looked for you everywhere, but Lu Han said you fucked off at eleven. You didn’t even tell us you were leaving.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth to lie but can’t. He picks at a brown smudge on the desk. “I had a bad trip.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. My fault, not Lu Han’s. I just slept it off.” He reopens Jongdae’s textbook to the wrong page. “And that was all I needed. Thank you for your knowledge. You may return to studying.”

Jongdae raises his eyebrows. “Are you serious, man? That was your emergency?”

“I’m a dramatic asshole.”

“Yeah, but you’re usually more predictable.”

Baekhyun points an angry finger at his face. “Take that back. I’m spontaneous and fun.”

“You’re a Taurus.” 

He groans and takes another gulp of Jongdae’s tea in revenge. It’s almost not worth it for the scalding level of honey now saturating his entire tongue. Jesus fuck. He stands and wipes his mouth. “Whatever. See you at rehearsal.”

“Whose turn is it to buy chicken?”

“Chanyeol’s.” 

They share a glance of immense suffering. “I’ll get it,” Jongdae offers.

They fist bump before Baekhyun scurries out of the library and back into the November rain. It’s chilly, the campus is crowded, and he feels miserably mixed up inside, so he goes to the only safe place he knows: the apartment. 

He’s so lucky to live where he does. An abandoned warehouse was renovated just two years ago into a rough and tumble low-cost apartment complex, which he and Kyungsoo can barely afford. Huge windows dominate the common room, spilling light all over the kitchen counters and couch. Kyungsoo cares for a dozen plants of various shapes and sizes that flourish in the well-lit space. Baekhyun’s room is tiny and unimpressive—he spends most of his time in the common room. He loves it wholly and recklessly.

When he arrives home, Kyungsoo is cooking in an apron  _ with no shirt on _ .

“Hey, man,” Baekhyun says, and his voice sounds totally normal.

“Hey.” Kyungsoo turns over one shoulder to wave with a spatula. “How was your day?”

He is wearing an apron and sweatpants  _ with no shirt on _ . This is not normal. Baekhyun flashes uncomfortably back to dream-Kyungsoo and the softness of his skin. Carefully he takes his shoes off and sits at the table so he doesn’t have to look. Baekhyun opens a game on his phone and starts tapping furiously.

“It was good. Thanks for the coffee this morning.”

“No problem,” Kyungsoo says, like he always does. “Are you feeling okay?”

_ No. I want to make out with my best friend/roommate because of a cannabis-induced dream vision and now you’re shirtless in our kitchen and I’ve literally never cared before today but you’re hot, Kyungsoo, what the fuck, I know you’re hot but why am I suddenly thinking about your chest and your ex-boyfriend? _

Baekhyun loses the game on his phone.

“Yeah, I’m a lot better now. Just got a little friendly with Lu Han.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo says, voice a little quieter. He can infer what that means. There’s a metallic clang from the pan and the simmering, oily sounds of a fried egg die down. “Do you want fried rice? I was going to just have eggs, but since you’re here, I’ll make it a meal.”

“Yes please!”

Out of habit Baekhyun stands to help Kyungsoo chop the vegetables, then freezes with his hands planted on the table. If he turns around, he’ll get an eyeful of shoulders and freckles and arms and back.

He swallows hard. “Out of curiosity, why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Kyungsoo makes an unhappy noise. “I got oil all over it. My favorite black shirt.”

“You have like, twelve.”

A towel flicks Baekhyun in the ass and he yelps. The tension dissipates and suddenly it’s just him and his best friend in their shared apartment, shuffling around the kitchen, like they have for a hundred different evenings. Warm. Comfortable.

Kyungsoo frowns. “But that one’s  _ my favorite _ .”

Baekhyun skirts around the table to grab carrots from the fridge. “I’m doing laundry tomorrow, I can throw it in with mine.”

The look Kyungsoo gives him is totally normal—fond, smiley, indulgent—but Baekhyun is struck with the realization that Kyungsoo doesn’t look at anyone else this way. This relaxation is reserved for Baekhyun and their apartment. It’s not strange. They’re roommates and best friends. But now Baekhyun’s thinking about what  _ he  _ must look like when he smiles at Kyungsoo. If he has any secret fond expressions.

He has to physically close his eyes, knife hovering over the carrot, to purge these thoughts. Now is not the time. Not when they’re standing inches apart.

Baekhyun attacks the carrots. Kyungsoo turns on Spotify to shuffle. They fall into a familiar pattern of inside jokes, peaceful silences, and laughter. This is their harmony. 

  
  


He decides to push some boundaries. Baekhyun’s fairly good at that, as he’s a nosy bitch and proud, so the following evening he settles on the couch to wait for Kyungsoo. He’s going to get rid of these weird post-dream feelings by asking Kyungsoo to recommend cute people to date.

A faint noise wakes Baekhyun in the middle of the night. The 90s Rock MVs playlist cycles on the TV. He can smell the pizza he abandoned on the table. He blinks open sticky eyes. There’s another noise at the door, a little shuffle, before it swings gently open. Then Baekhyun is wide awake and sitting up, dismooring the blanket to hide all evidence of his slumber.

“Welcome hoooome,” he calls, as casually as he can muster, one hand scrubbing through his painfully obvious bedhead.

Kyungsoo toes off his shoes and locks the door. He’s wearing a dark blue sweater and his hair is unusually ruffled in the back, but he smiles when he sees Baekhyun on the couch. 

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah, I’m just watching—” He glances at the TV. “The Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

Kyungsoo drops his bag on a chair and inspects the leftover pizza. It’s sausage and pepperoni, so he must know Baekhyun ordered it for him, but he still asks, “Can I have some of this?”

Sometimes Baekhyun wants to shake his roommate by the shoulders and explain, in a very casual tone, that he would give both kidneys to Kyungsoo if he asked. 

Instead he arranges himself more comfortably on the couch and says, “Yeah, go for it. I got enough for both of us. How was rehearsal?”

“It was good,” Kyungsoo says, sitting and immediately taking a slice. “I think J’s really happy with my progress. I’m a little slow on the more complicated sequences, but there’s plenty of time before the show.”

His socked feet tap gently underneath the chair. Baekhyun can see him heel-heel-toe-toe perfectly from this angle, and the simple pleasure it brings to Kyungsoo fills him with a weird and misguided sort of pride. That’s his roommate, there, talented and joyful. Baekhyun’s in awe of the little things.

“That’s great. When do tickets go on sale?”

“Not until next month.”

“Let me know  _ immediately _ .” Baekhyun crosses his arms. “I’m buying out the whole front row.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “You and what bank account?”

“My sugar daddy’s bank account?”

“And who’s that?”

Baekhyun tilts his head. “Jongdae?”

They both dissolve into laughter at the idea of frugal Jongdae lending any amount of money to a sugar baby. Especially Baekhyun—he’s not irresponsible, but he definitely has different priorities. Like the time he used some of the band’s budget to download hundreds of sheet music PDFs for the Avatar: The Last Airbender soundtrack. Not his best moment, but he doesn’t regret it. Anyway.

“Speaking of sugar daddies,” he segues neatly. “I’m making a New Years resolution to date more. What do you think?”

“It’s not even December yet, and if you wanted a sugar daddy, you’d still be fucking Junmyeon.”

Baekhyun raises a finger to argue. “Okay, fine, maybe I want a sugar baby. For free.”

“So, a boyfriend?” Kyungsoo wipes grease from his mouth with a napkin. “That’s what you want.”

That word is not Baekhyun’s favorite. He frowns and curls his toes into the cushion. He likes dating and sex, but commitment… not so much. “Yeah. No. Maybe. I just want to go on more dates, have some fun, you know? It’s our last year of college. Do you know anyone cute and single? Other than me?”

Kyungsoo gives him a  _ look _ . “Debatable you qualify.”

Baekhyun blows him a kiss like he always would, but for some reason his own smile tapers off and he can’t keep up the act. He really  _ is  _ feeling lonely, separate from these weird dream-Kyungsoo thoughts, and this might kill two birds with one stone.

But he can tell Kyungsoo is thinking. There’s a crease between his heavy brows and he pauses to pull up an Instagram profile.

“What about this person?” He tosses the phone onto the couch.

“This better not be  _ real__pcy  _ or I swear to God—”

“It’s not.” Kyungsoo snorts. “Oh my God, my life would be living hell if you dated Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun jokes, “Don’t tempt me,” even as he inwardly recoils from the idea. He loves his bandmate. He truly does. But Chanyeol is a sentimental, gooey, soft mess who will only date for marriage. That’s Baekhyun’s personal nightmare.

Actually, the guy in these photos is hot. Very hot. He poses artfully in front of a street mural, then snaps selfies with a dog, then shamelessly plugs what looks like a dance website. Based on the location tags for these photos, he goes to their university. His name is Jongin.

Baekhyun makes a pleasantly surprised humming sound. “Hmmm, I like this guy. How do you know him? Is he rich? What does he study? Do you think he’ll go to all-you-can-eat barbeque with me?”

“Not a guy.  _ They _ are in my bakery arts elective.” Kyungsoo stretches both arms behind his back. His sweater rises up over his stomach an inch or two.

“Oops. Are they—trans?”

“No. They’re just Jongin,” he says, eyes skimming Baekhyun’s face, and something strange must be happening there because he adds, “Is that okay?”

Baekhyun nods vigorously. “Of course. Totally. I just wouldn’t have guessed from their Instagram.”

“Shocking.” Kyungsoo smiles. “People are more than their selfies.”

For that Baekhyun stands and slides the phone back aggressively across the table. It shoots off the edge and lobs Kyungsoo in the stomach, and he keels over, glaring enough to send Baekhyun skittering and giggling back to the safety of the couch. Kyungsoo crunches off a huge bite of crust in lieu of retaliation. 

“I  _ am  _ my selfies.” Baekhyun holds a pillow to his chest. “But do they like barbeque?”

“Actually, no. They’re vegan.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun mentally runs a list of vegan restaurants he knows. It’s zero. “That’s okay, we can find someplace. Or just skip dinner and go for dessert.” He wiggles his eyebrows in case Kyungsoo misses the innuendo. “Can you give me their number?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I can give your number to them. Or Instagram handle. Whichever they prefer, if they’re interested.”

Already Baekhyun feels marginally better with the prospect of a date on the horizon. He can forget dream-Kyungsoo but bring to life those accompanying pink and warm feelings of kissing. It’s been so long since he kissed someone. Maybe since Hera two months ago? He almost hadn’t noticed the time. 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate this. I’ll buy you bubble tea if they message me.” Baekhyun smiles as cute as he can, then rubs his eyes. The exhaustion is creeping back in. He yawns. “Also, are you still coming Saturday night?”

“To Queenie Dick’s? Of course. I don’t know why you guys still play there, though, it’s a shithole.”

“A shithole that  _ pays  _ us.” Baekhyun corrects. “All the good places on St. Anthony’s are too ritzy, and all the really shitty places can’t afford our rates.”

Kyungsoo hums in commiseration and finishes the last bite of crust. His cheeks bulge a little. Baekhyun knows if he lets himself sit on this couch any longer, he’s going to fall back to sleep, so reluctantly he climbs to his feet and turns off the TV.

“Thanks for the pizza,” Kyungsoo says, smiling that private and indulgent smile.

_ Thanks for everything else,  _ Baekhyun wants to say.

“No problem,” he says instead, “Night!”

 

Jongin does text. So Baekhyun invites them to the gig at Queenie Dick’s on Saturday, even though the band is playing an experimental set because Chanyeol finally gave in to Jongdae’s request for a rock cover of Phantom of the Opera. 

Personally, Baekhyun’s nervous and consequently annoyed at himself. He’s in a band, for fuck’s sake. He’s a  _ rockstar _ who has charmed many a mosher at Queenie Dick’s with his keyboard and background croons, so there’s no reason to be nervous about  _ this _ person.

He’s afraid this won’t work. He can’t stop thinking about real-Kyungsoo. Their dynamic is exactly the same as before The Dream, but Baekhyun has spent the better chunk of a week reevaluating everything—the touches, the domesticity, the laundry, the dinners. Fuck his subconscious. He wants to be rid of this and Jongin is his best chance.

As the sun melts behind faraway hills, Baekhyun sheds his sunglasses and blinks orange light from his eyes. The stage door is already propped open. He skirts a pile of plastic cups on the curb and hops inside, hoping idly that Jongdae already ordered pizza. 

But Chanyeol is alone on the smelly blue couch. He’s wound tight in the shoulders and leaning into a game on his phone. It looks suspiciously like Episode: Choose Your Story. Baekhyun drops his keyboard bag in the corner and flops into his lap.

“Where’s Jongdae? I want food.”

“Mom’s running late.” Chanyeol lifts his arms away to focus on reading the speech bubbles on his screen. “I heard you’re bringing a date tonight.”

“Who told you?”

Chanyeol mimes zipping his lips. Baekhyun retaliates by tickling his stomach until Chanyeol convulses, folding himself in half until they’re completely squished together and laughing.

“Fine! You’re a fucking animal.” Chanyeol pushes him off. “Kyungsoo mentioned it. I didn’t know it was a  _ secret _ .”

Baekhyun settles a fair distance away on the couch. He tries not to breath deep or risk inhaling the pungent toxins rising from its fabric. “It’s not. I’m meeting them for the first time tonight, but they’re cute.”

“If you want advice on wooing, you know who to ask.”

Baekhyun makes a big show about looking around the dressing room. He shades his eyes with one hand. “Shit, who?”

“Fuck off.”

He cackles and drags a textbook from his bag. They fall into a leisurely silence. Arranged comfortably on the couch, Baekhyun almost forgets the thread of conversation entirely until Chanyeol replies some belated minutes later.

“No, but really, you want to start dating again? Not just hooking up?”

“Yeah, maybe.” He scratches a stain on the page of his book. It’s right over the word  _ unanimous _ , which he always mixes with  _ anonymous.  _ Baekhyun suddenly doesn’t want to talk about it. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Nah. You’re just a Taurus, so it’s kind of a big deal.”

Baekhyun swats Chanyeol’s shoulder with his book. “What is with you sounding like Jongdae all the time?  _ He  _ likes astrology.”

He means it as a joke, but Chanyeol immediately tenses. He kicks out at Baekhyun’s feet and they grapple half-heartedly. There’s something off about Chanyeol’s body language—he’s abruptly closed himself off. Baekhyun is no stranger to his tells. It’s obvious he hit a soft spot.

“We spend a lot of time together,” Chanyeol says evenly, eyes very fixated on his phone. “Sometimes I say things that sound like your specific brand of fucktruck. Like fucktruck. That’s a very  _ you  _ word.”

“ _ Excuse _ me?” Baekhyun is so offended he launches himself off the couch and rolls pathetically on the hardwood. This banter, at least, is familiar. “If anyone’s a fucktruck, it’s you, baby.”

“Shitbag.”

“Dickwit.”

“Mother _ fu _ —”

That’s what Jongdae walks in on. “Hey, team.”

He drops a huge bag of takeout on the table, burgers and fries edition. His shoulders are slumped and he collapses immediately onto the couch between them, but he spares enough energy for a kitten smile and a twist of Baekhyun’s nipple.

“Ow, why me?”

“You were the loudest.” Jongdae tilts his neck back and sighs so deeply his entire chest moves. “I’m knocking out, wake me up before soundcheck.”

Baekhyun retrieves a burger from the dripping bag and checks a message notification on his phone.

 

From: Kyungja

_ Jongin and I are on our way, see you soon! _

 

So Baekhyun allows himself one minute of full-body freakout. He wolfs down the burger. Then he slams into the backstage bathroom stall to reapply his eyeliner, careful not to accidentally touch the STD-smeared mirror. He laughs inwardly at Chanyeol’s number scrawled on the wall. He remembers  _ that _ , and he doesn’t regret it.

“Soundcheck, let’s go!” Chanyeol calls.

They rush through the opening number, Jongdae’s experimental piece, and the closer. 

“We were the BEDAZZLED BEEGLES,” Baekhyun croons, looking over the empty bar and imagining a crowd of moshing fans. “Thank you, and goodnight.”

For the most part, that’s exactly how the show goes—just another gig at Queenie Dick’s—except Baekhyun finally locates his date in the crowd during the bridge of  _ Music of the Night  _ and his voice cracks. From the corner of his eye he sees Chanyeol smirk. The crowd is so riled and fixated on Jongdae’s belting, they don’t seem notice Baekhyun’s obvious fuck up.

Except Kyungsoo. Who visibly giggles. He’s sitting on a tiny stool next to Jongin off stage left, sipping something dark and probably dangerous.

Baekhyun sees his date alright—but he can’t look away from his  _ roommate.  _ He drags his attention back to the keyboard. Kyungsoo is wearing eyeliner and a leather jacket. What the fuck? What’s with his wardrobe expanding and increasing to the tune of Baekhyun’s worst nightmare?

This wouldn’t be monumental, except Kyungsoo always shows up to Queenie Dick’s early and in a sweater. Baekhyun glances up to double-check. Jongin’s also wearing eyeliner, along with a plain black tee, and jeans, and  _ wow he’s staring _ —

So Jongin is hot in real life, too. Great. Excellent. Baekhyun crescendos the end of the song and, in the following lull, runs backstage to take three successive shots of Jack Daniel’s.

“Dude,” Jongdae hisses off the mic, raising both eyebrows. “You good?”

Baekhyun returns to the keyboard and wiggles his fingers. “Great, great, go ahead.”

They kick off the second half of the set. Baekhyun doesn’t feel the alcohol until they bow at the end and a woman tries to rush the stage, hands flailing for Jongdae’s hair, but Hanky Tank the security guard catches her just in time. Distracted, Baekhyun sways and almost falls forward into the pit.

Chanyeol’s sweaty palm on the back of his tank top is Baekhyun’s saving grace. The bandmates head offstage, exuberant and pumping with adrenaline, Jongdae whooping in their ears.

“Did you play  _ Pour Some Sugar on Me  _ drunk?” Chanyeol tosses Baekhyun a water bottle and sprawls on the blue couch, sweaty shirt and all.

“I would never.” Baekhyun chugs half the bottle and passes the leftovers to Jongdae, who’s already bent over his phone and munching cold fries. “Tipsy, potentially.”

“Hanky Tank says the guys upstairs are giving us two free drinks tonight. Since there’s a decent crowd.”

“Good,” Baekhyun says with feeling. He strips out of his damp tank and pulls on a soft mesh top. It’s the sexiest thing he owns and he still doesn’t feel sexy enough to go out there. “I’m gonna need it.”

Chanyeol whistles. “Go get ‘em, baby.”

“The guy standing with Kyungsoo, right?” Jongdae looks up. There’s a devilish gleam in his eye that might be the dim fluorescents. “He’s hot, dude. Have fun.”

“Not a guy. But yeah, they’re hot.”

Jongdae salutes. “Gotcha.” 

Baekhyun swallows hard and tries to remember Jongin’s face in the crowd. For some reason he can’t erase Kyungsoo’s giggle, and he can perfectly recall the texture of the green lights on his teeth. He slaps his own cheeks twice, takes another shot, and propels himself outside before he loses his nerve.

Before the door slams behind him, he hears Jongdae say, “What’s with him?”

What’s with him? Leather. Eyeliner. A too-sexy roommate who is currently leaning over the bar, ordering another dark drink with lots of ice. Baekhyun can’t breathe.

Wading through the crowd, he forces himself to focus on Jongin. His date. They lock eyes over a party of four and Baekhyun waves.

“Hey, Jongin?”

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Jongin says, and their voice is pleasant. They shake Baekhyun’s hand. “Your band is talented.”

“Aw, shucks.”

“Seriously! I love Phantom.”

Baekhyun slides between Jongin and the bar so he doesn’t have to meet Kyungsoo’s eyes. If he never addresses him—never says hello—then maybe he can avoid puking with nerves and desire.

“Thanks,” he says, flagging down the other bartender and pointing to the bottle of Jack in the corner. “That was a new piece. We worked really hard on it.”

Then Kyungsoo gets his drink and leans into their conversation, eyes half-lidded in a way that Baekhyun recognizes as tipsy. He’s been drinking. Pre-gaming, maybe. The eyeliner is artful and definitely not applied by Kyungsoo himself, but oh my god, Baekhyun can’t look away from the definition in his face. He’s  _ gorgeous _ .

“You mean you spent three weeks arguing about it and then practiced once?” Kyungsoo says, but it’s more like a drawl, and Baekhyun can’t  _ believe  _ how much his roommate is drinking.

“Yeah,” he agrees, distracted. Date or not, he needs to check on Kyungsoo’s well-being. The bartender passes him his own drink and Baekhyun clinks it with Kyungsoo’s. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, fine?”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

Then Jongin taps their own empty glass. “I’m going to get another. Round of shots first? To celebrate a night out?”

“Oh, god, I should’ve asked if you wanted anything.” Baekhyun pats his pockets and belatedly realizes his wallet is backstage with the burgers.

“On me.” Kyungsoo waves two lazy fingers. “What do you want?”

“A round of Kamikazes.” Jongin passes off their empty glass to a passing waiter. “And an Old Fashioned.”

Baekhyun whistles. “You have taste.”

That’s the first time Jongin smiles fully at Baekhyun, and he notices that Jongin is wearing delicate gold eyeshadow and matching dangly earrings. Jongin’s prettier up close than in photos. Baekhyun’s eyes catch on the sparkling jewelry as they talk, louder and louder in the moving crowd, until Kyungsoo returns with full arms and a secret smile for Baekhyun, like he’s pleased to find them chatting.

And so the night unfolds with more unsteadiness than Baekhyun anticipated. He doesn’t drink too much, but Jongin and Kyungsoo clearly do, and he barely gets a word in edgewise with how quickly they trade inside jokes. He didn’t know they were  _ close _ . Kyungsoo describes Jongin as someone in his class—but someone he takes  _ selfies  _ with on the dancefloor?

Baekhyun is a little indignant, but when he calls an Uber at 1 AM, he allows Kyungsoo to lean on his shoulder and Jongin to wrap an arm around his waist as they wait on the bench out back. He didn’t want to date Jongin anyway. He knew that the second he locked eyes with Kyungsoo in the crowd tonight. No one else holds a candle to him, and Baekhyun’s an idiot for trying to slut it up and ignore his feelings, even if he’s mesmerized by Jongin’s general aesthetic. He doesn’t want to date them, but he might want to  _ be  _ them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Baekhyun sees Kyungsoo blink heavy and slow against his shoulder. His eyeliner is smudged in multiple spots.

“I should come out to Queenie Dick’s more,” he says softly.

“You come to almost all of our gigs.” Baekhyun shifts his weight to better accommodate the two heads leaning on him. That Uber better hurry. “You’re like a groupie at this point.” 

“Yeah, but I never have  _ fun _ .”

“Oh.” Baekhyun can’t help it—he shrinks into himself a little. “I mean, you don’t have to come if you hate it.”

Kyungsoo sits up straight, eyes widening. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I love watching you guys, and I always have fun, just not usually like this, you know? I want to dress up and go out more.”

“Then let’s go out more.” Baekhyun massages his sore shoulder.

“Anytime,” Kyungsoo says. “You know I always say yes to you.”

It’s true. Baekhyun has exploited Kyungsoo’s obvious favoritism so many times he’s lost count—in retrospect, maybe he should stop.

To his utter disbelief, Jongin begins snoring lightly. The noise is loud enough in Baekhyun’s left ear to drown out the horrifying cha-cha music spilling from the back door of Queenie Dick’s. He turns his head completely toward Kyungsoo, whose nose is scrunching in fondness and exasperation. 

“What did you think of Jongin?” Kyungsoo suddenly asks.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. I tried to leave you both alone, but they were a little clingy with me. I think they got nervous.”

Baekhyun wants to laugh, wants to admit he couldn’t focus on Jongin even when he dragged them to the dance floor and  _ tried _ . But he’s developing a headache and, honestly, doesn’t have the emotional capacity to make judgements past midnight.

So Baekhyun smiles and says, “They’re nice and very pretty,” which is true. “I don’t think we’re a good match, though,” he adds, which is also true.

Kyungsoo leans his head on the brick, exposing his neck to the sallow streetlamp and accentuating the moles there. “Why not? Are they  _ too _ pretty?”

“What— _ no _ . We just don’t have anything in common.”

_ Except you,  _ he thinks. And other things he might want to try. Like makeup that isn’t stage makeup, or jewelry that isn’t a skull-and-crossbones stud worn for a gig. Jongin, if nothing else, is inspiring in their beauty. Baekhyun thinks about how it would feel to look like that and briefly loses his train of thought.

A car rolls up to their bench and Baekhyun checks his phone. That’s their Uber. He shakes Jongin gently awake and guides them to the backseat, buckling them in and praying they don’t puke into the cup holder. Kyungsoo burrows happily into the middle and Baekhyun squishes beside him.

In retrospect, it’s a very good thing he drops Jongin home that night, because otherwise Baekhyun never would’ve seen the flyer in Jongin’s apartment complex foyer advertising in yellow print  _ BATTLE OF THE BANDS: OPEN COMPETITION FOR $5,000! _

 

“Of course I signed us up. It’s five thousand bucks.”

“Dude, this is awesome.” Chanyeol jumps out of his seat and draws the unhappy attention of nearby students bent over their textbooks. “We just need a winning set.”

“ _ Hair _ .” Jongdae pockets his phone and pulls Chanyeol back into his seat by the tail of his coat. “It’s rocky, it’s show-offy, it’s our style.”

Baekhyun snorts. “We are not a Broadway cover band. We are punk rock  _ idols. _ ”

That ignites a passionate sigh from Jongdae that draws even more disgruntled glares in the direction of their table. “We need a wider audience and this is our chance. We have to play to our strengths!” He pounds a fist on the table and sends crumbs flying from Chanyeol’s half-eaten muffin. “Let’s explore an experimental genre! Seulgi might let us book Teatro with a little more traction.”

“I agree with Jongdae.” Chanyeol adjusts the snapback over his silver skaterboy fringe. “That we should do  _ Hair _ . Not really about the other stuff.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“What? We’re in  _ agreement for once— _ ”

Baekhyun chews on his lower lip and tries to imagine the crowd demographics at a collegiate Battle of the Bands competition. He can’t. Who the fuck does Battle of the Bands now anyway? The BEDAZZLED BEEGLES are the only well-established local act, and even then,  _ well-established  _ is a stretch.

In the grand scheme of things, their set doesn’t matter. If they’re talented enough, they’ll win. And Baekhyun really wants to win. Mostly for the clout.

“Okay, fine,” he says, flipping to a new page in his music notebook, where he’s already doodled three dicks in the margin. “ _ Hair _ , and what else?”

Except they’re not listening. Jongdae is leaning over the table to pinch Chanyeol’s nipples, Chanyeol is wriggling like an eel, and nearby students are glaring with more fervor at their corner table by the stairs.

An odd thought occurs to Baekhyun—he’s third-wheeling. He’s never felt like this with his bandmates before. But it’s happening now, and he watches their antics with dawning horror. The squabble stretches into a laughing fit as they forget, longer and longer, that Baekhyun is sitting there in silence. 

He puts down the pen. “If we’re not brainstorming, then I’m going to dip.”

“Don’t!” Chanyeol slaps his hand on the notebook, cheeks pink from laughter. “We’ll focus, I promise.”

“I actually have stuff anyways,” he lies, shoving miscellaneous things into his backpack. Whatever he can reach. A pen, a lollipop wrapper, some crumbs. He just wants to leave.

Jongdae watches him go with furrowed brows. “Okay then. See you at rehearsal tomorrow?”

That shouldn’t be a question. Baekhyun feels guilty for a moment, for screwing off at the slightest inconvenience to himself, but—he’s  _ sensitive  _ right now. The loneliness is swelling inside him like a balloon about to burst.

“Yeah,” he says, and habitually goes for a fist bump before descending the stairs and emerging to a bright afternoon.

He goes home mopey.

Baekhyun’s Mood continues into the evening as he lounges across the sunlit rug, textbook in hand, trying to banish the ugly, lonely thoughts from intruding on Chemistry. He forgets all about dinner plans with Kyungsoo until his roommate is stepping through the door and saying, “Hey.”

“Shit.” Baekhyun bolts upright. “I didn’t thaw the meat.”

“Oh, good.” Kyungsoo sighs and dumps his bag onto the dining room table. He rubs both eyes. “I’m too tired to cook. Let’s order Thai.”

“Are you okay?” He closes the book and crosses the room to lean against the opposite chair. “You never order out. Unless you’re dying and need congee.”

Kyungsoo gently leans his forehead on the table, squishing his face against the wood in what would be a comical position if Baekhyun didn’t know him. The table is filthy. Kyungsoo would never willingly subject his sensitive skin to that.

“I think I’m dying,” he says, words muffled.

“Large Pad Thai, stat. Got it.”

It’s amazing how two minutes with a distressed Kyungsoo completely washes away Baekhyun’s bad mood. He has a goal now more important than idly studying for Chemistry: cheering up his roommate. After calling in the order, he sits next to Kyungsoo at the table and gently massages the back of his neck.

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo mumbles.

“Long day?”

“ _ Shitty  _ day.”

“Wanna talk about it or wanna play Smash?”

Kyungsoo’s shoulders heave with a final sigh. He sits up and looks at Baekhyun with raised brows, glasses slipping down his nose. “You know what? Let’s play Smash.” 

So they Smash. Kyungsoo loses most of the time, as is the nature of Baekhyun’s opponents, but with each round he relaxes deeper into the couch cushions. After a particularly brutal round where Kyungsoo, playing Peach, is thrown off-screen twice in thirty seconds, he sets down the controller.

“It was just a shitty day,” he says again, but the lighter tone of his voice suggests he’s ready to talk about it, so Baekhyun leans away and looks. Just looks. He knows Kyungsoo will get a haircut soon, because the fringe is almost past his eyebrows, and his bottom lip is a little chapped, like he stress-chewed it this morning. He’s still pretty.

“What happened?”

Kyungsoo takes off his glasses and tosses them carelessly onto the couch between them. “I fucked up a lab. I lost my student ID. My parents started pressuring me to come home next summer and run the restaurant. Then Jongin messaged me for help on the write-up and I found out they don’t feel safe going to the professor after things he’s said in private. Which is awful. And then—”

He stops abruptly, rubs out his eyebrows, and closes both eyes. Baekhyun’s heart thumps erratically in his chest. He moves closer, inch by inch, until he can slide an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulders and tuck them into a delicate embrace. 

Baekhyun knows to stay quiet until Kyungsoo is done, or risk never hearing the full story. He quashes intruding thoughts of The Dream and consequently the desire to turn Kyungsoo in his arms and kiss away every problem. Not helpful.

“And then,” Kyungsoo continues, “Minseok asked me to join Battle of the Bands and I said yes even though I definitely don’t have time.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun takes a deep breath. “Wow, you did have a long day.”

“The school shit is whatever. I just don’t know what to say to my parents, or Jongin, or Minseok.”

“I see why the first two are Not Great Situations, but Minseok will understand if you back out. What instrument? Or are you tap dancing for him?”

Kyungsoo bites his lip. “He asked me to sing.”

That’s a surprise. Baekhyun has never heard his roommate sing outside of musical theater, and most definitely not in a band reminiscent of Minseok’s singer-songwriter style, so he shifts sideways to inspect Kyungsoo’s expressionless profile. What an incredible poker face in the midst of an emotional breakdown.

“He’s your friend from high school, right? Does he know how busy you are—that you’re the lead in the musical this semester?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know you’re a straight-A student?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does he know—”

“He wasn’t desperate,” Kyungsoo interrupts. He pushes his glasses up his nose with one hand and looks at Baekhyun. “That’s the thing. I was his first choice. He wanted me, how could I say no?”

Therein lies the problem. Confident that he can talk Kyungsoo out of his downward spiral, Baekhyun settles back into the couch and props both feet in Kyungsoo’s lap. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

Kyungsoo’s brows furrow. Then he replays the last bit of conversation again—Baekhyun can almost hear the gears turning—before he shakes his head. “This isn’t about me setting boundaries.”

“Yes it is. You never say no to people.”

“It’s Minseok, for one thing. He never asks for anything. And how am I supposed to say no to my parents?”

“Like this.” Baekhyun wiggles his toes between Kyungsoo’s warm thighs, ignores his fidgeting response, and mouths an exaggerated, “No.”

“It’s easier for you,” he argues.

“Because I don’t have social anxiety? That’s true. You’re right. But you still have to say no sometimes.”

Then the doorbell rings. They both look at the distance between couch and door, long-suffering, before Kyungsoo pushes his feet off and retrieves the food from a harried delivery man. Baekhyun turns on the kettle for their tea and sits at the table, intent on finishing their conversation, but the arrival of dinner has shut Kyungsoo down. He eats with intensity and changes the subject each time Baekhyun asks about his schedule or other problems.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he can’t talk Kyungsoo out of his bad day. So Baekhyun abandons the attempt at communication and queues up a background playlist of Yiruma. Then he lights a candle, pours their tea, and says, “Also, I changed my mind about dating.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. “Was Jongin that bad?”

“No!” Baekhyun almost knocks his tea over waving his hands. “Not at all, oh my god. They were cool. It’s me. It’s definitely me.”

_ And you. Mostly you. Because I want to date you and I can’t get over it.  _

“As long as you’re happy,” Kyungsoo says, sipping his tea and playfully knocking Baekhyun’s socked foot with his own underneath the table. He smiles.

Once again Baekhyun flashes back to Kyungsoo’s lips in The Dream. He wants… he wants… He  _ wants _ . 

“I’m happy,” he lies, then has to look down into the dredges of his earl gray before his ears go hot with shame. “Just don’t tell me if you meet someone. I might get jealous.”

That part is true at least. But Kyungsoo says, “Oh, I definitely don’t have time.”

Baekhyun doesn’t feel better after hearing that. He feels worse. He just wants Kyungsoo to be happy, and he shouldn’t have implied that Kyungsoo’s happiness would be a detriment to his own. All of this weird loneliness and longing is making a monster of Baekhyun’s heart. He hates it. 

He promises himself then and there, one socked foot against Kyungsoo’s, to focus on school and Battle of the Bands. Nothing else. The feelings for his roommate will pass eventually.

  
  
  


On a rare morning where Baekhyun and Kyungsoo get to breakfast together, they hole up at the overpriced cat cafe down the street from their apartment. A sweet orange tabby falls asleep on Baekhyun’s lap and promptly makes his entire day. Then he makes a whimsical offer.

“Let me design you a professional website,” he says, shoving a forkful of rice and eggs into his mouth. The cat is undisturbed by his movement.

Kyungsoo takes a smaller bite from his own bowl. He’s sitting in a semi-circle of worshipful cats drawn by his utter lack of interest. A fat gray cat rubs against his ankles, and three more sit perched on the booth, eyes fixated on the back of his head. It’s hilarious. Baekhyun’s taken three Snapchats already.

Silently Kyungsoo chews, eyes glued to the grains of rice that Baekhyun drops from his fork—immature, yes, but wasteful? No. He eats the grains straight off the table. Mostly because he enjoys his roommate’s disgust.

Then the offer seems to register. Kyungsoo looks thoughtful for half a second before he says, “For what?”

“Performing. What else? I know you have some acting reels, and I can take videos at the musical and Battle of the Bands.”

“Sure, if you want.” Kyungsoo swallows and finally looks away. He’d been staring for a while. Baekhyun must be eating exceptionally horrifically.

“It’ll be easy. Graphic design is fun.”

“It would help my resume. I’m thinking of applying to internships soon anyway. What’s your rate?”

Baekhyun sets down his fork. With his free hand he pets the kitty, who purrs a sleepy tune. “Uh, free?”

“You’re  _ good  _ at marketing stuff.” Kyungsoo taps his feet under the table, setting a quiet rhythm against the wooden floorboards. The gray cat bats at his shoes. “I have to pay you.”

“No, I’m offering.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Let me support your art.”

“Let  _ me  _ support  _ your  _ art!” Baekhyun argues, his voice accidentally raising in volume. Several other customers look their way. Oops. He sinks awkwardly into the seat, hiding as best he can behind the tabby.

But Kyungsoo is laughing, eyes crinkled up at the corners. Sometimes when he laughs, he covers his mouth, and Baekhyun likes that best because it means he’s genuinely amused. This is one of those laughs.

“Fine.” Kyungsoo sips a mug of jasmine tea and the steam briefly clouds his glasses. “My mom is asking when you’re free for dinner, by the way. She wants to take us for sushi next week.”

“ _ Yeeees _ .”

“Maybe Friday? Unless—you have rehearsal? I don’t remember the new schedule.”

Baekhyun’s heart sinks. Thinking about the band feels weird and he doesn’t know why. Chanyeol and Jongdae are his best friends, and he’s not upset, and he still wants to make music with them. But. He definitely feels left out.

He’s felt left out for a while, actually. It’s just becoming less comfortable.

“Nah, I’m good with Friday.” Baekhyun takes a clean bite of rice and egg. “We’re rehearsing Thursday after Jongdae’s shift.”

“What’s your setlist for the Battle of the Bands?”

Baekhyun wags his fork at Kyungsoo. “You think I’m telling you? We’re competitors now.”

One of the cats sitting behind Kyungsoo is brave enough to paw at his ear for attention. It gets a glare in response. Baekhyun cackles. To his surprise, though, Kyungsoo picks up the cat and deposits it in his lap, one arm curled around its back.

“There’s no competition. The BEEGLES will win, everybody knows that.”

“Who’s everybody?”

“The whole school.”

“Oh,  _ sure— _ ”

“The whole music department,” Kyungsoo corrects himself, rolling his eyes. “You’re like, semi-famous. Around here.”

Kyungsoo looks so domestic with a tabby in his lap. Even though he eats much slower, he keeps one hand resting firmly on its back, and the cat’s yellow eyes close in content. Baekhyun takes another picture. This one he uploads to his Instagram story with a gif of exploding hearts.

Kyungsoo sees it and snorts. “You always make me look like a five-year-old.”

“It’s your natural cuteness.”

“Take that back.”

Kyungsoo levels a butter knife at him. A waitress at the front counter looks over, and Baekhyun smothers his giggles into his sleeve. One of the cats jumps away, alarmed.

So Baekhyun begs for forgiveness. They split the check. The morning progresses as usual.

  
  


The following weekend Chanyeol convinces everyone to rent a karaoke room, and by everyone he means  _ everyone  _ because Sehun shows up, too. He’s wearing an ugly snake-diamond jacket and he winks at Baekhyun. Little shit.

“Long time no see.” Baekhyun slaps him on the back like they’re friends, even though they’re definitely not.

Sehun bites his lip to hide a smile. “Hi, Baekhyun. I liked your eyeliner at the last show.”

“Thanks. I like your jacket.”

“Thanks. It’s Gucci.”

“No way? I actually couldn’t care less—”

“Anyway,” Chanyeol interjects, shepherding them into the tiny glittering room. “My roommate and my bandmate are already arguing. What’s our first song gonna be?”

Baekhyun climbs over Lu Han, deliberately stepping on his feet, so he can sit on the couch next to Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo who is wearing a rumpled turtleneck because he fell asleep before they left, exhausted from tap rehearsal, and who still has sleep in the corner of his eyes when Baekhyun leans over to thumb clean the skin under his glasses.

He only realizes how weird that is when Kyungsoo turns, wide-eyed.

“Sorry,” he says. “You had—there was stuff on your face.”

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo says.

“Is that a volunteer I hear?” Chanyeol slaps the book of songs and points at Baekhyun. “Byun Baekhyun, keyboardist and vocalist for the BEDAZZLED BEEGLES, will you take the first challenge?”

Baekhyun is nothing if not a whore for attention. He leaps onto the table, grabs the microphone from its stand, and yells, “Hit it!”

He should’ve asked the song first. It begins, and Baekhyun wants to die.

“ _ Do you hear me _ ,” he sings, stepping gracefully off the table and in front of the screen. He knows these words, so he turns to face the couchful of friends already giggling. “ _ Talking to you? Across the water, across the deep blue ocean _ ….”

His heart catches in his throat during the chorus. Deliberately he kneels in front of Jongdae to obnoxiously sing, “ _ I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been, lucky to be coming home again _ …”

Baekhyun doesn’t look at Kyungsoo, but he hears his laughter. The song ends and he passes the microphone to Lu Han’s eager hands. Reclaiming his seat, Baekhyun pretends to check his phone, out of breath. No one is paying any attention—the shrieks and clapping directed at Lu Han now—but Kyungsoo leans into his space, and Baekhyun knows it’s him instantly, without needing to look, because he smells like fresh laundry and their shared soap.

“I forgot how much I like that song,” Kyungsoo says into his ear. His lips graze Baekhyun’s neck. “You made it sound so good.”

He smiles. “Why, thank you.”

“The BEEGLES should do more pop. It suits you.”

“Oh, I wish. I’ve been trying to tell them, but they never listen to me—”

Then Lu Han starts rapping, Jongdae is called forth for Wicked, and Chanyeol and Sehun duet to Green Day. They order a round of shots. Then another. Baekhyun taps out after two, citing hunger, but actually he just doesn’t want to get tipsy sitting so close to Kyungsoo on this couch. He feels antsy enough to volunteer again and again to sing—this time selecting the songs himself. All girlie pop power throwbacks, no simpering lovey-dovey bullshit.

Jongdae’s phone screen lights up his face. “Five minutes left in our reservation!”

“Kyungsoo didn’t sing,” Sehun pipes up from the corner.

That’s true. Baekhyun feels like an idiot for not noticing. Kyungsoo doesn’t always tag along to karaoke nights. Sometimes he prefers to meet catch a movie alone. Baekhyun can’t believe he almost forgot to force him into singing—preferably something other than old-school Broadway.

“Quick, quick, pick a song.” Baekhyun slides the book into Kyungsoo’s lap and starts flipping wildly. What would be a good choice? An out-of-the-box choice?

But Kyungsoo moves the book and stands. “I know which one.” He plugs numbers into the remote and pushes his glasses awkwardly up his nose. The room falls quiet in suspense. Baekhyun wraps his fingers around the bottom edge of the couch.

The guitar instrumental begins. Baekhyun doesn’t immediately recognize it, and he tilts his head in confusion when the first line appears onscreen.

“ _ To know know know him _ ,” Kyungsoo sings, closing his eyes. “ _ Is to love love love him _ .”

Chanyeol wolf-whistles. Across the room, Lu Han whispers, “Is this Amy Winehouse?  _ Damn _ .”

Baekhyun abruptly realizes he’s holding his breath. Kyungsoo slides into the chorus and slowly opens his eyes. When Chanyeol holds up his phone as a flashlight, Kyungsoo smiles and sways along, his voice falling confidently over the runs. It’s an RnB song, it’s incredibly sexy, and it’s making Baekhyun feel things. Tingles in his chest, a rush in his stomach.

Kyungsoo isn’t even looking at him. Baekhyun might actually pass out if he does.

At the end of the song, Sehun and Chanyeol rush outside for the bathroom, and the others follow more slowly, one at a time. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are the last ones left in the room. Baekhyun fiddles with his jean jacket sleeve. There’s a stain on the fringe.

“Do you want to go another hour?” Kyungsoo turns toward him, eyes soft. “Just us?”

Happiness and pride at being selected bubble in Baekhyun’s chest. It’s not a surprise, but he still enjoys being Kyungsoo’s favorite. “Sure!”

“Okay, classical Broadway songs only.”

“Nevermind, I’m leaving—” Baekhyun turns jokingly toward the door, but Kyungsoo grabs his arm, laughing. They lose their balance and careen shin-first into the table. 

Turning, Baekhyun tries to snatch the microphone away from Kyungsoo, but he holds tight and they’re suddenly locked face-to-face in a stalemate with the microphone caught between their chests. They’re close enough that against his knuckles, Baekhyun can feel the  _ thump-thump _ of Kyungsoo’s heart.

He tugs experimentally. Kyungsoo is pulled forward, even closer. His breath coasts over Baekhyun’s cheeks.

All too suddenly the atmosphere changes. Kyungsoo’s smile slips away and he stares at Baekhyun like he’s surprised, eyes wide and jaw tilted gently. The rainbow strobe lights reflect in his glasses. 

“You’re not leaving,” Kyungsoo says, belated.

Neither of them move. Baekhyun doesn’t even breathe. They’re so close he can see each dark eyelash casting shadows on Kyungsoo’s cheeks.

“I’m not leaving,” he says.

Then he kisses Kyungsoo.

Up until that point, Baekhyun had plausible deniability. Sure, he stares. He fantasizes. He goes out of his way to take care of Kyungsoo, and vice versa, but none of that alone concludes that he’s got feelings.

This kiss is a confession. Baekhyun doesn’t even think. It happens so naturally, so smoothly, that his eyes flutter closed against the overhead lights. He sinks into this.

With the hand caught between their chests, gripping the microphone, Baekhyun feels Kyungsoo’s heart stutter.

He tastes like the coconut milk tea they shared on the walk to karaoke. His mouth is warm and tentatively responsive, following Baekhyun’s rhythm, pressing back into him softly. Baekhyun parts his lips gently and tilts his chin, angling deeper—

Then the microphone slips and lands on Baekhyun’s foot.

“Ow.” He jerks back, toes aching, and almost trips over the song book abandoned on the floor. A quiet and strobe-lit reality crashes inward.

Kyungsoo is looking at Baekhyun like he’s never seen him before, eyebrows twisted downward like he’s a little horrified, or confused. Baekhyun’s heart drops. What should he say? Did he fuck everything up with an impulse? Kyungsoo’s hand is still resting on his own chest where the microphone was. He hasn’t moved. Is he  _ broken _ ?

“Um.” Baekhyun folds both hands delicately behind his back. “Uhhh. Sorry. I should’ve asked.”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says, but he’s still  _ staring _ . “Why did you…”

Swallowing hard, Baekhyun picks up the microphone so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. He fucked up so bad. “I just—felt like it. You know I’ve been weird and lonely. It’s stupid.”

Kyungsoo takes the microphone from him and places it gently on the table. The screen is flashing images of the beach at sunset, with palm trees and torches.

“You’re lonely?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun says immediately. “Yeah.”

“That’s why you kissed me?”

Now that the words are out there, he can’t take them back or deny what happened. Baekhyun closes his eyes and tries really hard not to cry. He knows Kyungsoo, but he’s  _ never  _ heard that tone of voice before—low and flat. Empty. It sounds like he’s angry.

“Yeah, um.” Baekhyun reaches for the door. “Maybe we shouldn’t do another hour.”

He’ll say anything to end this conversation. He’s such an idiot. He wants to go home now.

Kyungsoo blinks several times. Baekhyun holds the door open, spilling strobe lights into the sticky hallway, but his roommate hesitates.

“Okay.” Kyungsoo pushes his glasses up his nose. He walks away from Baekhyun without looking back.

Their walk home is quiet, tense, and incredibly awkward. Everytime he tries to speak he can’t. Something in Baekhyun’s chest hurts. He cries in the shower. He touches his lips under the running water, soft fingerpads on softer skin, and remembers the way Kyungsoo felt there.

He has potentially destroyed his relationship with his best friend. Baekhyun buries himself under a mountain of blankets that night and shuts his door.

 

Baekhyun doesn’t see Kyungsoo the next morning because of pilates class. He pulls on jeans that smell vaguely like grilled meat and takes his skateboard out to ride up and down the block, making dangerous turns onto the street, back and forth. The motion is soothing. But it’s not enough.

He calls Jongdae.

“ _ What’s up? _ ”

Baekhyun sighs. “I fucked up.”

“ _ Did you fail your Chem test _ ?”

“No—”

“ _ Okay, so it’s not that bad _ .”

“I kissed Kyungsoo and he ran away.”

The line goes quiet. Baekhyun does a kick flip in the middle of the street. He lands a little off-balance and tumbles from the board, joints aching. He sniffles.

Jongdae quietly says, “ _ When _ ?”

The whole story pours out. Baekhyun rides faster and faster as he speaks, careening over broken bits of sidewalk and sweating under the mid-morning sun. It’s unseasonably warm today.

“...and now I don’t know what to say,” he finishes, kicking up the board at the curb. Cars whiz by on the main road and knock a dusty breeze into his hair.

“ _ It sounds like you reacted really quickly. _ ”

“Well, yeah. You should’ve seen the look on his face.”

“ _ Yeah, but—”  _ Jongdae sighs. There’s a shuffling noise. “ _ Did you make it clear that you liked him _ ?”

“Of course not. That would be worse? Literally were you listening he’s disgusted and hates me—”

“ _ Kyungsoo does not hate you _ .  _ Go have a real, big boy conversation about your feelings. _ ”

Baekhyun drops the board and kicks off. He heaves a sigh, tilting his head back to watch the clouds move along with him down the street.

“Okay,” he says, and then because he’s not looking, he crashes into a parked car.

When Kyungsoo returns home, Baekhyun is flat on the couch with an ice pack on his ankle, watching _ Baby Driver  _ and drinking black coffee.

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrow. “What happened?”

So he’s pretending like nothing happened last night. Okay. Baekhyun shimmies up and pauses the movie. His ankle throbs unhappily.

“Crashed on my board,” he mumbles.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Kyungsoo grabs the watering can from the counter and starts tending to the potted plants on the dining room table. One of the ferns is wilting. Baekhyun can relate.

Awkwardly, Kyungsoo clears his throat. “Do you want lunch? I can make soup.”

“Sure, thanks.” Baekhyun swallows. “Do you… can we talk about last night?”

Water overflows from the geranium pot. “Fuck,” Kyungsoo hisses, under his breath, hurrying for a towel. His cheeks are pink. “If you want. It’s not a big deal.”

“It‘s kind of a big deal.”

Baekhyun moves the ice pack and sits at the table. They’re inches away and Kyungsoo still won’t look at him.  _ Just look at me. You’ll understand, you’ll see it in my face. Just look. _

Kyungsoo sets down the watering can and takes a seat. He laces his fingers together, casually, so Baekhyun knows he’s listening. It’s now or never. 

Baekhyun clears his throat. “I kissed you because I like you.”

There he goes, telling the brave truth. He feels instantaneously lighter. Dirt speckled water continues to drip across the table, but Baekhyun sits back and watches the reactions move across Kyungsoo’s face. His lips part. He pauses.

“Why… do you like me?”

“What?” Baekhyun blinks.

Kyungsoo worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Do you like me because you’re lonely?”

“No, I—” He doesn’t want to say,  _ I liked you because of a dream but it’s more than that now _ . “I just do. Sorry if that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Kyungsoo says quickly. He looks at Baekhyun, finally, and his eyes are dark and searching. “I like you too.”

“Seriously?” Baekhyun inflates with hope. He sits straighter. “As like, more than friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Since when?”

Kyungsoo shrugs, but there’s a tiny smile at his lips. Baekhyun can’t believe it. This is too good to be true—and he doesn’t know what to say, where they go from here—

But Kyungsoo seems to understand. He moves his chair closer. “I thought you only kissed me because you were horny.”

“I wouldn’t. I’m not like that.”

“I know, but I was trying to be careful.” Kyungsoo looks at his mouth. “You break a lot of hearts.”

Breathless, Baekhyun leans closer. He should continue the joke, but there’s a vein of truth in it. His eyes fall to Kyungsoo’s mouth. Kyungsoo’s eyelashes flutter closed. This is really happening, and he can hardly believe it.

“I won’t break  _ your  _ heart,” Baekhyun whispers, because it needs to be said.

Then they’re kissing.

It’s nothing like their first kiss. Kyungsoo slides into his lap, easily taking control and latching onto his waist. The shift in power is an electric surprise. Baekhyun  _ loves _ this.

It feels like Kyungsoo has been waiting to take him apart like this. He’s eager and his mouth is warm and exploratory. Baekhyun tilts his head back, fisting his hands in Kyungsoo’s shirt, partially to keep him balanced and partially to create a physical barrier—they’re accelerating so quickly—

But then Kyungsoo cradles his face in one hand and angles their kisses deeper, longer, and all of Baekhyun melts away. He presses closer and sucks Kyungsoo’s bottom lip. Kyungsoo glides his tongue across Baekhyun’s lip, so gentle he can barely feel the pressure. They float on this rhythm until he’s a shuddering, sighing mess. The wooden chairback digs into his spine and he doesn’t care.

There’s a gentle wet noise when Kyungsoo breaks away. “Do you want to…?”

He glances at his Baekhyun’s bedroom door. Baekhyun can’t immediately process that. Kyungsoo’s lips are pink and flush from kissing. Because  _ he  _ is kissing him. He knows Kyungsoo’s face and his quirks, he  _ knows  _ how much this is affecting him and—it’s real. Definitely. No way a dream could be this specific and wonderful—this is  _ better  _ than his dream ever was. He’s kissing his best friend.

Suddenly he’s a little overwhelmed. Baekhyun has to lean back and take in a large breath of air. His head clears a little.

“Yes,” he says, immediately, hands resting comfortably on Kyungsoo’s hips. He can’t get over the novelty of touching like this. He strokes his thumbs along the fabric over Kyungsoo’s thighs, which feel thicker than he expected.

Kyungsoo gets up and opens the door to his bedroom. The blue bedcovers are tossed in a frenzy. He scratches the back of his neck with one hand and Baekhyun wants to kiss him there. Everywhere. He’s enchanted by that minor flash of skin.

Baekhyun is slow to follow. He hesitates in the threshold of the door while Kyungsoo sits on the edge of the bed. The adrenaline of impulse should’ve worn off by now, but he still feels joy-drunk and confused, and Kyungsoo looks the same.

“What are we doing?” Baekhyun whispers, taking small steps over the carpet. 

Kyungsoo swallows and leans back, unintentionally flexing the muscles in his arms. “I’m okay with anything.”

“That’s not really…”

“As long as we’re not dating. It’s easier without labels.”

Baekhyun stops cold in the middle of the room. His heart plummets. “What?”

“I mean—we live together.” Kyungsoo pushes his glasses up his nose, then removes them entirely and tosses them with a clatter on the nightstand. “We should try not to get tired of each other like you get tired of—well. We can’t break the lease.” He shrugs. “So I’m okay with  _ this _ , I want this. Just no commitment.”

Somewhere in Baekhyun’s scrambled head, he understands. That’s a logical, if harsh, decision. It makes sense for cautious Kyungsoo to suggest roommates-with-benefits before living-together-boyfriends. Of course.

But a bigger part of him feels cheated. Here Kyungsoo is, confessing his feelings and initiating  _ something,  _ but yanking his heart back like he’s afraid. 

Or maybe he just doesn’t like Baekhyun for the same reasons Baekhyun likes him.  _ I like you as more than friends  _ could easily just mean  _ You’re hot and I’d be down to fuck _ .

That’s uncomfortable and chilling. Baekhyun doesn’t want to think about it. He takes in this view of Kyungsoo—shy and wanting, sitting on the edge of the bed—and consciously makes a Very Bad Decision.

“Deal.” Baekhyun crosses his arms. “Just roommates who mess around. No labels or rules or anything.”

Kyungsoo’s face smooths out in surprise. He has a shy, downward smile that spreads over his face now, and Baekhyun tentatively steps closer. He slots himself in between Kyungsoo’s thighs.

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says, voice low. “So where were we?”

Baekhyun kisses him. They slide backwards into the sheets, with Baekhyun’s weight imperfectly balanced on the edge of the bed, until they’re chest to chest. Holding Kyungsoo pliant and warm beneath him reignites the tingling fire in Baekhyun’s body. He wants to be closer.

He kisses along Kyungsoo’s chin and down his neck, gentle, careful not to leave a mark. Kyungsoo sighs and shivers. Quiet noises slip past his lips. There’s a sensitive spot, right at the junction of his neck and collarbone, where Baekhyun sucks to make him moan. Hands grip and flex along his back. He can  _ feel  _ Kyungsoo’s twitches and they urge him to move faster, push his shirt up, caress the skin of his stomach.

Until Kyungsoo’s had enough. He quickly sits up. Baekhyun rolls sideways to avoid falling on the floor, out of breath and surprised. 

But Kyungsoo strips out of his own shirt and looks expectantly at Baekhyun. There’s a faint pink mark at his collarbone. So much for secrecy. Baekhyun obliges, tugging off his shirt, and realizes belatedly that his hands are shaking. He swallows hard and conceals them by tossing the shirt into the wicker hamper across the room.

Kyungsoo doesn’t give him a moment to breathe before he’s back, leaning into Baekhyun’s space and monopolizing his mouth. Suddenly hands are everywhere, running through his hair, smoothing down his chest, lingering in the tickle zone of Baekhyun’s stomach to make him laugh.

That’s when Kyungsoo takes advantage of his distraction—while Baekhyun is laughing—to maneuver him down until they’re chest-to-chest again and Kyungsoo is straddling his thighs.

Baekhyun can’t help it. “Oh,” he sighs, looking up at the most gorgeous guy he’s ever seen, who sits on him and smiles. Like he has any idea the fireworks Baekhyun feels.

He can’t believe they haven’t been doing this all along. Baekhyun wraps a hand around the back of Kyungsoo’s neck. He tugs him down so they’re kissing again, faster, hungrier, more comfortable now with each others’ lips. Kyungsoo’s tongue flashes out and heat spikes in Baekhyun’s gut.

The skin-to-skin contact feels amazing, but then Kyungsoo stops kissing along his chest. “You look like you’re freaking out. Are you freaking out?”

“No,” Baekhyun says, but his voice squeaks a little. 

He isn’t prepared for this, alright? To be here after what he thought was a rejection feels like an unexpected gift. He’s trying to enjoy it while also quieting the hysterical voice in the back of his head that  _ knows  _ this is monumental. Revolutionary. Potentially life-changing—

Kyungsoo kisses him hard and rolls his hips down. 

Baekhyun deliberately stops thinking. He throws himself into this, stripping Kyungsoo of his pants and kicking off his own, until they’re rolling in their underwear and kissing like they just learned how. A little sloppy, a little desperate. It’s fun. Distantly he regrets choosing to wear the PUBG boxers that Chanyeol got him as a gift last year, but it’s not like Kyungsoo hasn’t seen them.

Kyungsoo is focused and deliberate. He moves with an experience that blows Baekhyun away—what has he been  _ hiding? _ —and presses a palm against Baekhyun’s clothed dick. God, he’s hard. He’s harder than he’s been in weeks.

Baekhyun breaks their kiss to exhale, “ _ Fuuuck _ .”

He wants to wriggle to a new position so he can get his hands on his roommate in return. But his thighs are twitching and he doesn’t want to give up this view, where he can watch Kyungsoo’s face tighten, see every muscle move beneath his skin. He’s so fucking hot. How didn’t he notice before?

Kyungsoo returns to his mouth, relentless with kissing, grazing gently with his teeth, sucking. He thumbs over Baekhyun’s nipples. Heat gathers between their bodies. Momentum and gravity carry them closer. Baekhyun nips his thick bottom lip like he’s been wanting to for weeks.

Then Kyungsoo moves to roll his hips again and Baekhyun  _ moans _ . Where they touch feels exquisite. A part of him is shocked that Kyungsoo has this in him—

Baekhyun opens his eyes. “Wait, wait,” he says, out of breath.

Immediately Kyungsoo moves back so there’s space between their chests. His eyes are glazed and focused somewhere on Baekhyun’s mouth, and Baekhyun wipes it subconsciously before continuing. “We don’t have to stop, but—can we slow down?”

_ I don’t want to have sex with you the minute we start kissing,  _ he wants to say, but that’s actually not true. He wants to have sex with Kyungsoo. That’s the problem. The more rational part of Baekhyun’s brain knows it’s not a great idea to fuck on the first bed romp with his best friend.

Kyungsoo smiles until his eyes are shining. “Of course.”

He returns gently to Baekhyun’s mouth. The rhythm slows to become more comfortable than electric. His lips stray to Baekhyun’s cheeks, neck, chest—even to the ticklish part of his stomach. They kiss for hours. Kyungsoo’s lips are voracious. Baekhyun feels like he would know the taste of him anywhere, could kiss him blind. They stay lazy in the bed, trading kisses, until the partings grow longer.

Eventually Kyungsoo rolls over and stares at the ceiling. His luscious lips are parted slightly and his chest is rising quickly, breathless and recovering. His hands curl protectively around his own stomach, like he suddenly remembers he isn’t wearing clothes.

“You,” Baekhyun says, then loses his train of thought. “You are so fucking good at that?” It comes out rough and sounding like a question.

Kyungsoo turns and laughs, hiding his face in the pillow. It’s a genuine laugh, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. Baekhyun is hit with the dizzying desire to reach over and kiss him again.

So he does. The plans for soup are forgotten. They waste the afternoon away in bed, kissing under squares of sunlight that move across the wall, laughing and dozing and loving.

  
  
  


This situation rearranges Baekhyun’s priorities.

“I can’t make it to rehearsal tonight,” he says, holding the phone tight with one hand while he skates home after class. Dead, brown leaves from the cherry blossom tree blow into his path.

“ _ How come _ ?” Chanyeol’s voice is muffled, but he sounds pissed off. “ _ We picked today because we’re all free _ .”

“Yeah, my Essay professor gave us a monster assignment at the last minute. I really have to work on it, sorry.”

“ _ Okay _ ...  _ we can do the arrangement for Doom Days tonight and show you later? _ ”

For some reason, it bothers Baekhyun that they don’t offer to reschedule. Yeah, he’s flaking, but they could at least  _ pretend  _ to care. He knows Jongdae is with Chanyeol based on the pause before every response. They’re probably doing that silent communication thing right now.

Stupid jealousy rises in Baekhyun’s stomach. He’s being unreasonable and he can’t stop it.

“Sounds good,” he says. “See you then.”

“ _ Good luck on your essay _ .”

“Thanks—bye.”

Baekhyun hangs up and pockets his phone. He turns onto his street. The real reason he’s ditching band practice is because Kyungsoo’s tap rehearsal was cancelled tonight. He wants to kiss him for another two hours. 

And truthfully, anything sounds better than sitting in between his bandmates while they make inside jokes that Baekhyun used to be privy to.

When he opens the door to his apartment, Kyungsoo is stretched over the couch on his stomach, a textbook in his arms and headphones on. Probably blasting Tchaikovsky. Or  _ 42nd Street _ .

Baekhyun deposits his keys on the table, gently props his board against the wall, and jumps on Kyungsoo’s back.

“Oof,” Kyungsoo groans, jerking back and tugging his headphones off. Baekhyun spreads his limbs over Kyungsoo’s body until they’re lined up perfectly, then he snuggles even closer.

“Hi,” he murmurs into Kyungsoo’s neck. “How was your day?”

Kyungsoo squirms. “Hi. When did you get home?”

“Just now.”

“Rehearsal was cancelled—?”

Baekhyun rolls off and cuddles up to Kyungsoo’s side. Their noses brush. His legs dangle off the edge of the couch, but it’s just comfortable enough for him to kiss away the question.

Kyungsoo falls into this easily. He pushes his textbook aside and cups Baekhyun’s face. He works open his mouth slowly, taking control, and Baekhyun is happy to relax and follow his lead. He never expected sexual Kyungsoo to be so… confident. It’s incredibly hot.

They move quicker against one another. Kyungsoo pulls him onto the couch more firmly. They’re pressed together tight enough for Baekhyun to try reaching over and thumbing over Kyungsoo’s nipples through his shirt.

He thinks things are going to accelerate quickly from there, until Kyungsoo puts his metaphorical foot down.

“Okayokay,” he says, out of breath. “I  _ have _ to finish this reading.”

“Fine.” Baekhyun pouts. He rolls off Kyungsoo and dramatically sprawls on the floor. From here he can see flecks of peeling paint on the ceiling. Some of their potted plants are wilting from the cold.

“We can continue later.” 

Baekhyun sits up and notices the clock. “Sure. It’s getting late, actually. I should eat dinner.” 

But by the time Baekhyun is finished cooking a quick stew, Kyungsoo is fast asleep with his face smashed into his workbook. Adorable. 

He gets closer. Definitely asleep. Baekhyun drops a kiss on Kyungsoo’s forehead and scurries off to his room to eat. He won’t risk waking him with loud chewing noises.

Since Baekhyun’s priorities are so utterly rearranged, he remembers after dinner that he wasn’t totally lying to Chanyeol—he has an assignment due at 8 am the following morning. 

Baekhyun  _ panics _ . He shares the class with several friends, so he shoots off a panicked ‘ _ help me _ ’ text to Minghao. It’s a problem set derived from a complicated Punnet square reading assignment—which Baekhyun enjoyed, but now can’t remember the details of.

“I’m screwed,” he moans into his pillow.

He has a terrible habit of talking to himself when he’s particularly stressed. This has never been an issue before, but tonight Baekhyun is in the middle of energetically encouraging himself to continue with the third problem when his bedroom door opens.

“Let’s go, Byun,” he says. “Only six more. This is better than failing, right? I don’t need sleep—oh, hi.”

From his position sprawled upside down on the bed, Baekhyun can look up and just see Kyungsoo’s frantic bedhead.

“Why are you so loud.” Kyungsoo shuffles in. He rubs one eye and glares aggressively at the papers in Baekhyun’s hands.

“Sorry! Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo says, and his voice catches on a whine.

Naturally that just about melts Baekhyun’s heart. He tosses the papers on the hardwood and enjoys the slapping noise they make. Rolling onto his back, he extends his arms and makes grabby hands. “Since you’re up anyway, keep me company?”

Kyungsoo’s hands flex around the edges of his purple robe. He looks like he’s considering it, eyes still puffy from sleep, but then he says, “Not without ice cream.”

Baekhyun goes limp and lets his head loll dramatically backward. “You’re amazing.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“Mm-hmm.” Kyungsoo shuffles back into the living room.

Baekhyun doesn’t realize exactly what he said until it’s too late. He stiffens, arching under the blankets. He said he loved Kyungsoo. Well, he’s said it a hundred times, but is it weird now that they’re messing around? Has he made things awkward?

He lays still and doesn’t retrieve the assignment just yet. When Baekhyun closes his eyes, he sees the imprints of Punnet squares drawn on the back of his eyelids. He’s so fucking tired, he can’t last much longer...

Kyungsoo putters back with two bowls of Rocky Road Rally. He sits next to Baekhyun’s knee and balances his bowl beside Baekhyun’s nose.

“Was that weird?” Baekhyun sits up slowly, wiggling his legs through the soft sheets. He twists the spoon through mountains of ice cream. “That I said that?”

“I don’t think so.” Kyungsoo takes a big bite. He chews his ice cream, which is disgusting, but Baekhyun gets distracted watching his jaw move.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Baekhyun piles a chocolate chunk onto his spoon. “You didn’t say it back.”

Kyungsoo looks supremely unimpressed. He squints at Baekhyun. “Okay, I love you, too. Better?”

If he doesn’t think this is weird, Baekhyun shouldn’t think this is weird. Right? He sucks on the chocolate and nods, feeling upset and not knowing how to change the subject. Sleep deprivation is having a terrible effect on his emotional state—which is already fragile to begin with. Great.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you earlier.” Kyungsoo sets down his spoon and gets more comfortable on top of the blankets. “I applied for a summer internship abroad.”

Baekhyun almost chokes. “Abroad? Where?”

“A couple different cities in Italy. It’s a music theory program.”

“That’s cool as fuck,” he says, even though he hears  _ Italy  _ and immediately visualizes an empty bed in their apartment and quiet mornings.

What an amazing opportunity. Baekhyun should be excited that Kyungsoo is branching out, following his passions… and he is. But he’s also nostalgic for two minutes ago, when the idea of Kyungsoo leaving wasn’t a thought in his head.

He eats the rest of his ice cream at lightning speed. “Did you include the website I made for you?”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo smiles and sets both of their bowls on the floor. “It’s on my resume.”

“So official.”

“It’s really good, Baekhyun.”

“Thanks.” Baekhyun collapses backwards, letting the blankets suck him in. “I think… I’m going to finish my homework in the morning instead.”

To his surprise, Kyungsoo sheds his purple robe and crawls into the blankets, too. His skin is warm and flushed. When he presses his lips to Baekhyun’s, they’re cold and sticky and  _ so  _ sweet.

“Or,” Kyungsoo whispers, punctuating each sentence with a kiss. “You could do it now. Get it over with.”

Baekhyun shivers. “Not really helping me concentrate.”

“Mmm. I could motivate you.”

“Oh? Keep talking,” Baekhyun whispers, and their lips meet again.

  
  


The following afternoon, Baekhyun has every intention of apologizing to Jongdae and Chanyeol for flaking on rehearsal. He walks straight from his Writing and Cultures elective to the library. Deep in the bowels of the basement lies the sorting department, where Chanyeol has worked for the past two years. He should be getting off in five minutes and Baekhyun is prepared to grovel and buy bubble tea—or takoyaki. He knows from Kyungsoo that’s Chanyeol’s favorite snack.

He descends the stairs two at a time, wrapping his coat tighter around his shoulders. It’s cold as shit down here. Looking at the students hunched over their desks or slumped on the bookshelves is depressing. How can anyone stand this oppressive environment?

When Baekhyun turns the corner to the sorting department doorway, he freezes.

Chanyeol and Jongdae are standing across the hall  _ kissing.  _

They haven’t seen him, so he ducks behind the Medieval Religion shelf and breathes. They’re kissing. His two best friends. He fucking  _ knew  _ it, didn’t he? How long has this been going on? 

“Fuck,” Baekhyun whispers, earning him a dirty glance from a nearby studious peer.

His thoughts gallop into conspiracies and timelines.

Obviously they don’t want him to know—but why? To save the band? Oh god. What would happen to the BEEGLES if they broke up? Are they even dating, or are they just messing around, like he and Kyungsoo are?

Baekhyun feels vaguely dizzy from the shock. He braces himself to turn around and peek, but when he does, Chanyeol and Jongdae are gone. The hallway is empty. They must’ve walked the other way.

He sits at an empty desk in the library, dicking around on Twitter and failing not to overthink the past several months. He resolves not to say anything.

That resolution lasts approximately three minutes into their rehearsal later, after Baekhyun walks in to Chanyeol’s basement, tosses a box of takoyaki on the table, and says, “Okay, who’s going to confess?”

Chanyeol’s eyes stretch wide underneath his snapback. He swivels in his chair to face Baekhyun. “Confess what?”

Jongdae, on the couch, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Not me.”

“What?” Chanyeol glances between the two of them. Baekhyun can see the panic in his shoulders. “If this is about the noodles, I promise I’ll buy them for the next gig.”

“Forget the noodles.” Baekhyun crosses his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys were  _ fucking _ ?”

Their reaction is almost funny. Chanyeol makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, like he’s trying to laugh and scream at the same time, and stands from the wheelie chair. He looks guilty as hell. That’s how Baekhyun knows he’s right. 

But Jongdae’s face falls. He sits straighter on the couch. “Who told you?”

“Other people know?” Baekhyun rocks back on his heels. “Am I the last to find out? How long have you been…” He gestures in an open-ended way to their bodies.

“We were trying to keep it a secret.” Chanyeol says, then cringes at his own words. “From everyone. Not just you. We wanted to tell you.”

“We wanted to make sure we were serious first,” Jongdae adds softly. “This is a big change.”

He tosses his phone aside and pats the spot on the couch beside him. His face is kind and sad, and he’s got a bittersweet smile, like he knows this conversation is the end of something precious.

Baekhyun isn’t even angry. He’s just heartbroken. “I get that.” He nods and doesn’t move from his firm spot at the door. “I really do. But we’re in this band together. All three of us. And—I don’t know, I thought we were best friends.”

“We didn’t want you to feel left out.” Chanyeol takes off his hat and pushes back his hair, which is greasy at the ends.

“I _already felt_ _left out_.” Baekhyun shakes his head. “You just made me think I was overreacting. Being dramatic. Because no one told me.”

Jongdae swallows audibly. “We—”

“Stop saying  _ we _ !” Baekhyun throws up his arms.

He can’t do this. His eyes are stinging and he’s thinking back to every moment in the past few months where he’s felt lonely, like a third wheel, disproportionately upset…. Everything could’ve been avoided if he only knew there was a reason. He wasn’t crazy. His best friends just lied to him.

Baekhyun sighs. “I mean, I’m happy for you guys. I’m just—upset right now. I didn’t mean to explode.”

He stews in an awkward silence. Chanyeol’s basement has never felt smaller. Jongdae clears his throat and says, “We can talk about this later if you need some time.”

Baekhyun exhales, long and weary. “That sounds good.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says softly. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks down at the floor.

Good. He should be ashamed. They both should. A spike of anger flares in Baekhyun’s gut, then fades. More than anything, he feels lonely.

“Just tell me something now,” Baekhyun says. “Did Kyungsoo know?”

Jongdae winces. That’s enough of an answer. Suddenly feeling like he might cry, Baekhyun nods vigorously and backs toward the door. “Okay. Okay. I’ll see you guys—later.”

Then he walks upstairs, out the door, and to the bus stop. The wind is like ice against his exposed cheeks. Fat tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Even Kyungsoo knew! He doesn’t blame Kyungsoo for keeping their secret, of course not, but… Baekhyun feels so alone. So left out. He hates that his friends made him feel like this. He doesn’t want to see anyone.

Sniffling, he rubs his face with his sleeve and makes the rash decision to return to campus for the night. He’ll sleep in the library and shower in the gym before classes tomorrow. Not even his apartment, warm and full of Kyungsoo, could cheer him up right now. He wants to be alone.

Like a dumbass, he forgot his charger at home, so by the time he finds a suitable chair in the library, his phone is dead. Baekhyun can’t bring himself to care. He buries his head in his arms, closes his eyes to the fluorescent lights, and tries to figure out when everything began.

At least since September. That’s when he first started noticing a change in atmosphere, a rearrangement of inside jokes. Maybe earlier than September. He twists his fingers into his hoodie and sighs.

Sometimes Baekhyun wishes he could stop time. Stop change.

He falls asleep thinking that, and wakes up hours later with a crick in his neck and both legs asleep.

“Eurghhh,” he moans.

Baekhyun stretches miserably out of his chair. Several early bird students in adjacent desks give him side-eye glares. Right. Now he’s the loser who sleeps in the library. 

Quickly grabbing his backpack, he hurries to a gym shower. The line at the cafeteria is obnoxiously long, so he drops by the cafe for a croissant and yogurt, then shuffles to class. He feels zombie-like and nasty.

Except when he gets to the lobby of the Physics building, he sees Kyungsoo lingering outside his classroom door. 

“Hey,” Baekhyun calls, incredulous. He rubs his eyes to make sure he’s not hallucinating. “What are you doing here?”

Kyungsoo turns around so fast he knocks his glasses askew. He looks exhausted—wrinkles under his eyes suggest a missed skin routine, which Kyungsoo would  _ never  _ allow. His shoes are half-untied.

“Seriously?” He stuffs both fists into his sweatshirt pocket. “I’m looking for you. Where did you go last night?”

“Oh.” Baekhyun scratches the back of his neck and feels like an idiot. “I slept in the library. My phone died. Sorry.”

“I didn’t know where you were. Chanyeol said you left his place early.”

In retrospect, he should’ve known Kyungsoo would flip if he didn’t come home. It’s not like Baekhyun has a wild social life that would keep him out until morning. Hot guilt swirls in his gut. 

“I know about Chanyeol and Jongdae.”

Kyungsoo blinks. Then squints a little. He sighs, his eyes fluttering closed, and leans back against the brick wall of the lobby. Passing students brush his shoulders with backpacks, but he doesn’t stir. 

“Are you mad they waited to tell you?” He asks. “Because I understand if you are.”

“They didn’t tell me. I saw them kissing in the library.”

“Oh,” Kyungsoo mumbles. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. A headache is taking root and he rubs at his forehead, annoyed at himself for the lack of self-care last night. This whole situation is a mess. “Not your fault.”

“Are you okay to do the gig?” 

_ Oh, no _ . Baekhyun completely forgot about the gig this weekend. That’s happening  _ tomorrow _ . They’re not even at Queenie Dick’s this time, they’re being moderately demoted to Saw’s Silver, the horror-themed grunge bar down the street. He groans and slaps his hands over his face.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “We haven’t rehearsed the set because I missed one practice then walked out of the next. I don’t know the arrangement for Doom Days at all.”

The crowd of students rushing to class is growing larger and stronger. Kyungsoo gently guides him by the shoulders into an alcove between the bricks, where imprints on the carpet suggest a chair once sat. He wraps his arms around Baekhyun.

Leaning his face against Kyungsoo’s shoulder, he kinda wants to cry. He does, a little. 

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says, like he knows Baekhyun is about to break down in public. “It’s one show. You can cancel, or you can go and fuck up a few times. Either way, it’s just one show.”

“I hate this. They put me in such an awkward position. I’m still mad.”

“You should be mad.”

“You’ll be there on Saturday, right?”

Kyungsoo’s hands stop moving over his back. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Surprised, Baekhyun wipes his face and wiggles back a little so he can look at Kyungsoo up close. He seems softer than before. When he first found Baekhyun in the lobby, he looked pissed, but now he just looks sleepy and sad.

Baekhyun sniffs and feels his surplus snot move around. God, trying not to cry is gross. “Do you have an extra rehearsal?”

Hesitant, Kyungsoo blinks. “No, I’m going out.”

Normally that means with friends—but something about Kyungsoo’s hesitance and low voice imply a date. Should he ask? What if he  _ is  _ going on a date? Baekhyun can’t handle that information right now. 

Quickly Kyungsoo adds, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah!” Baekhyun nods and steps out of his embrace. “Yeah, totally, of course. I mean, you don’t have to come to every gig. It’s fine.”

He must’ve said something wrong, because Kyungsoo’s face goes completely smooth. Even his expressive mouth is cold and still. Baekhyun blinks, startled by the change—his roommate has never looked so far away—but before he can ask, Kyungsoo nods.

“Okay. I should let you get to class. We can talk about Chanyeol and Jongdae later, if you want. Um—let me know if you aren’t coming home next time.”

Baekhyun bites his lip. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

Kyungsoo smiles, a tiny, bitter thing. “I always do.”

Then he walks away and leaves Baekhyun in a corner, surrounded by strangers, adrift and overwhelmed.

Baekhyun decides the best way to distract himself is by working. This is an unusual tactic for him. Work is not typically a priority. He pays attention and takes notes during both of his classes that morning, then spends two hours in the piano room fucking around in the key of C.

He hears the spine of a new song coming forth. Leaning into it, he closes his eyes and plays what he feels—lonely, longing, confused, afraid. Everything bleeds onto the keys and he writes it absently on the first page of his notebook.

Baekhyun trudges home with that fledgling song stuck in his head, on repeat, compounding his bad mood until he wants nothing more than to sleep in his own bed. So that’s what he does. He falls asleep without dinner, under three blankets, and doesn’t wake up until the late morning, when he scrambles awake to an empty apartment and a screaming stomach.

There’s a single missed text from Jongdae that says,  _ Saw’s at 6 tonight? If you don’t want to I understand. _

_ I’ll be there,  _ Baekhyun replies. He doesn’t include his characteristic string of emojis. He dawdles in the kitchen making eggs and toast, then lingers in the shower under pouding, scorching water.

An hour before he needs to leave for Saw’s, he pulls up the sheet music in their shared Google folder and dubiously looks it over. Baekhyun isn’t a musical genius, okay? He tries. He does fairly well with the piano, and he’s versatile on vocals, but… he can’t pull a rabbit out of this hat. 

He’s going to be shit tonight.

Luckily he’s the first member of the BEEGLES to arrive, so he plops onto a stool and drops the keyboard on the floor with a thunk.

The bartender—an older woman with short hair—gives him an unimpressed look. “What are you having?”

“Tequila sunrise, please.” Baekhyun slouches forward and admires the fake splatters of blood on the glass shelves behind the bar. 

He’s a drink and a half in by the time Jongdae and Chanyeol arrive. He waves them over and pretends not to see Jongdae’s flat-browed, judgemental  _ look _ . The bartender directs them backstage and Baekhyun leads the way.

“Are you okay to play?” Jongdae hisses in his ear.

“I’m okay.” Baekhyun shrugs and pats his keyboard bag. “Didn’t get a chance to look over the music much, but we’ll see how it goes.”

It goes awfully.

Baekhyun screws up his chord progression three times, accidentally starts playing too late for the bridge,  _ and  _ makes Jongdae stumble by hitting an A flat chord instead of a C flat chord for the chorus. He’s a mess. The audience even looks a little jarred. When the audience notices a fuck up, that means it’s a genuine fuck up.

He can feel his face burning as they launch into  _ Weightless _ , a song he knows better. He pulls that one off without a hitch. But Baekhyun can’t shake the humiliation from being the weakest link. The BEDAZZLED BEEGLES work so well because they  _ work _ . All three of them. In some ways this passion is a job, and Baekhyun has failed his coworkers.

At the end of the set, Jongdae beams over the audience and yells, “We were the BEDAZZLED BEEGLES, thank you! Goodnight!”

Polite cheers fill the bar. The stage lights flicker off. A blonde guy jumping and waving in the back catches Baekhyun’s eye—Lu Han! He waves back and is immediately tempted to go over and greet him. Maybe he’ll have something stronger than alcohol to share…

Chanyeol claps him on the back, startling Baekhyun out of his odd fantasies. “You packing up or staying?”

Lu Han is now gyrating on a guy with dark hair and dimples—hopefully a friend. Baekhyun tears his gaze away to focus on disassembling his keyboard. No use getting high. That wouldn’t solve his problems. 

“I’m going,” he mumbles without looking up.

Chanyeol sighs and awkwardly lingers in front of the keyboard. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t. It just makes Baekhyun mad, the semi-effort, the lingering in his space. Doesn’t Chanyeol know he’s  _ upset  _ and  _ doesn’t want to talk _ ?

But Chanyeol clears his throat. “Do you want to—”

“I have to go,” he interrupts. “Sorry, Chanyeol. I’ll see you at rehearsal? Thursday?”

Baekhyun shoves the keyboard into his bag and looks up to see Chanyeol still standing there, mouth slightly agape, as if he wants to argue. Baekhyun bristles. Are they really going to fight here, on the dimly-lit stage of Saw’s, right after a gig? 

Jongdae intercepts by grabbing Chanyeol’s bicep. His fingers curl protectively around his arm as he tugs his boyfriend away and says, “See you Thursday.”

Thank fuck. Baekhyun deflates. He’s so accustomed to playfully arguing with Chanyeol that stopping would be hard once they started. And it would be real arguing, no funny business here. He’s still sparking, angry, embarrassed—god, Baekhyun just wants to go  _ home _ .

He tries to smile at Jongdae. Then he practically runs for the back exit and catches the train home. Kyungsoo should still be out on his date—but the living room light is on when Baekhyun opens the door. He drops his bag on the shoe rack, squishing Kyungsoo’s gym shoes, and shucks off his own shoes. 

Baekhyun brushes his teeth and tries not to feel like a third wheel. He takes off his jeans and tries not to feel like a third wheel. He climbs into bed, feeling like a third wheel, and decides to fuck this entire day.

So he leaves his room and climbs into bed with Kyungsoo instead.

The lights are off in his bedroom, but the door is cracked open. Baekhyun has snuck into his bed several times in the past, most recently the night of The Dream, so he’s familiar with where he needs to step on the carpet to avoid stray homework, a fallen pillow, a backpack, etc.

Kyungsoo is fast asleep on his back. Baekhyun gently moves the covers, slips underneath, and relaxes. This is warmer and more comfortable than his bed. Here, he doesn’t feel like a third wheel. But just how much can he get away with?

Cautious, attuned to Kyungsoo’s gentle breathing, he presses his forehead to the back of Kyungsoo’s neck and curls up behind him.

There Baekhyun sleeps. 

 

There Baekhyun wakes up, warm and sticky, when Kyungsoo rolls over and throws his arms around him. Suddenly Baekhyun’s aware of early morning light streaming through the window, a mockingbird squawking, and Kyungsoo’s lips nosing along his neck. They’re pressed together from head to toe.

“Mongerngin,” he mumbles.

“Morning,” Kyungsoo mumbles back. “When did you get here?”

“When I got back from the gig.”

Baekhyun cracks open his eyes. Memories of last night flood inwards. The horrible gig, the horrible tequila, and the horrible knowledge that Kyungsoo was on a date—everything awful crashes around him. He shuts his eyes again. Why did he bother waking up?

Kyungsoo presses a kiss to the junction between Baekhyun’s neck and shoulder. “Oh,” he says, voice rough from sleep. “Well this is nice.”

“How was your date?”

Kyungsoo slowly runs his hands over and around Baekhyun’s shoulders in soothing circles. “It was good.”

He says it so nonchalantly. As if Baekhyun weren’t heartbroken at the thought. Who was it? Where did they go? Why isn’t he enough?

Baekhyun bursts out, “Okay, I can’t do this if you’re dating someone else.”

The touches stop. Kyungsoo’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks comically disoriented, but he rolls over and grabs his glasses from the dresser. When he sits up, he looks serious. “Are you jealous?”

“No—no.” Baekhyun sits straight, too, wrapping his hands in the sheet. He doesn’t look up. Of course he’s jealous, but he can’t tell Kyungsoo that without scaring him off.

Kyungsoo blinks. He squints like the light through the window is too much. “It sounds like you’re lying. You can be honest with me, we can talk about this.”

Baekhyun bites his lip. Damn Kyungsoo for knowing all his tells. An excuse comes to him in a flash, something vaguely true enough.

“I’m afraid of STDs,” he says.

They’re close enough in bed for Baekhyun to watch a range of emotion pass over his roommate’s face. Kyungsoo’s brows smooth out and he frowns, a little bit, like he’s hurt, but composes himself. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks once, twice, quickly.

“Oh.” Kyungsoo pushes his glasses up his nose and looks down at their hands twisted in the sheets. “You have nothing to worry about. And I’m clean, if it matters.”

Oh god. Baekhyun is an idiot. Why did he think that was a good deflector? He scratches at the back of his skull, disturbing the bedhead there, and swallows hard. “Um, me too.”

He thinks he’s effectively ruined the tranquility of their morning when Kyungsoo rolls out of bed. But he only leaves to grab his phone from the floor where it charges overnight. He sits cross-legged on the duvet and thumbs the screen. “Do you mind listening to me rehearse a song for the musical?”

Baekhyun could kiss him right then, he’s so grateful for the change in subject—so he does, leaning forward to peck his lips against Kyungsoo’s cheek. “Of course.”

“I need a real critique. Don’t be nice.”

“Me? I’m never nice.”

Kyungsoo’s lips turn up. His eyes soften, even as they stay glued to the screen. “Liar.”

He taps the screen and a piano track begins. It’s fast and familiar, though Baekhyun can’t name it until Kyungsoo starts singing. He closes his eyes and lets the music crash over him, fill the room, alight every corner of the morning. It sounds crisp and beautiful.

Baekhyun jumps in for the background vocals. “ _ Modern love _ !”

“ _ Walks beside me _ ,” Kyungsoo sings around a smile. 

When the song ends, Baekhyun pushes his phone out of the way and tackles him back into the pillow. Then they’re kissing again, even as Kyungsoo laughs. “Does that mean you liked it?”

“You’re so good.” Baekhyun kisses him again, fast, then leans back. “God, that was hot. Being serenaded in bed.” 

Kyungsoo’s laughter fades. He brushes a lock of hair from Baekhyun’s eyes and trails his hand down his ear, across his jaw, to thumb at his bottom lip. Butterflies erupt in Baekhyun’s stomach. He forgets to breathe. They stare at each other like that, breathless and anticipatory, until Kyungsoo cracks and leans in for another kiss.

It’s the best start to Baekhyun’s day in a long time.

  
  


The following weekend, after several hours complaining into a computer screen that he  _ fucking hates physics like more than anything else in the world _ , Baekhyun is ready for some relaxation.

So he hops on his skateboard and goes to the park.

It’s cold outside, but not unbearably so, and the breeze rips apart the cloud cover so that light explodes over the grass. The park Baekhyun frequents is dog-friendly and his favorite activity is riding past every dog on the sidewalk and greeting them individually. Today there are two Welsh Corgis wearing knit sweaters and pooping near the ficus tree. Best day  _ ever _ .

Waving at the dogs reminds him of Jongin’s instagram. They have two dogs, he thinks. He kinda misses Jongin. They were fun—and beautiful—even if they weren’t Baekhyun’s type. Maybe he should try again. A one-on-one date this time. They could absolutely be friends, if nothing else.

Anyway, Kyungsoo didn’t really agree to stop seeing other people. So if he’s meeting up with other guys, why the fuck shouldn’t Baekhyun?

Baekhyun sits on a bench and asks Jongin if they’re busy tonight.

_ Not at all,  _ comes the instant reply.  _ Want to eat?? _

_ I know a place,  _ he texts back.  _ There’s a cat cafe near my apartment. Vegan options! :) :) :) _

It turns out cats adore Jongin. Baekhyun avoids his and Kyungsoo’s booth, because it turns his stomach to look at it, but he seats them at table surrounded by vines where a fat calico is napping on the windowsill. As always, the cafe is charming.

“This place is amazing.” Jongin sits wide-eyed and smiling. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a little pricey.” Baekhyun opens the menu. “But worth it.”

He’s determined to try something new. Maybe vegan. He’s nervous. Jongin is wearing purple eyeshadow and dangling diamond earrings over a sheer black top and jeans. They look  _ fantastic. _ This doesn’t even have to be a date, but Baekhyun feels like maybe it should be, and he doesn’t know how to act.

Jongin’s smile slips. “I noticed the neighborhood was pretty… gentrified.”

“Honestly, I’ve heard that term so many times and I  _ still _ don’t know what it means.”

“Oh, it’s something we talk about in my sociology classes a lot.”

Baekhyun reaches down to greet a wandering tabby with his index finger. “Tell me about it.”

That launches a great discussion, and he relaxes enough to order and joke around with Jongin. He teases them about the last time they saw each other.

Surprisingly, Jongin blushes. “Yeah, sorry about what happened at Queenie Dick’s. I was having a tough time in one of my classes and—I dunno, I wanted to let loose?”

“No shame.” Baekhyun raises his teacup to that. “I accidentally passed out at Kyungsoo’s birthday party last year. We had reservations at this really fancy Italian place and I slept right through them, didn’t make it past the pre-game.”

“Nooooo,” Jongin laughs. “I think he mentioned that! It was  _ you _ ?”

“It was me.”

The plates arrive and Jongin tucks into their burger with gusto. “Can’t believe you both stayed friends after that.”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun twirls a fork through his fried rice. He shouldn’t have brought up Kyungsoo, he doesn’t want to talk about him. Too late now. “He stuck it out with me. Poor guy.”

Jongin snorts. “It could be worse. My freshman year roommate stole my leftovers all the time and he  _ wasn’t even fucking vegan _ .”

Baekhyun laughs. He almost drops his fork. There’s a lull while they both chew, but Jongin is interrupted by the calico, who has woken up and descended from the windowsill onto the back of their booth. She rubs her head against Jongin’s shoulder and they look delighted.

“Can I ask you a question?” Baekhyun blurts out. He gulps some water to stall while Jongin nods. “How did you learn to do your makeup? And—is it scary to wear?”

“Honestly? Youtube videos.” Jongin wipes a smear of ketchup from their lips. “It started as like, goth guyliner only. Then I figured out I wasn’t a guy, and it just became… whatever I wanted.”

“That’s really cool,” Baekhyun says. His voice sounds tiny and far away.

Sitting across the table, bathed in scattered sunlight, Jongin looks unearthly and beautiful. They smile and brush back floppy hair. “It was scary at first, but not anymore. It feels good to be myself.”

“Cool,” he repeats. “I mean—you look great. Wearing makeup. It suits you.”

“Thanks.”

Baekhyun chugs water. What does he say now? This feels more and more like a date and oh god, he’s terrible at dating. He can’t look away from Jongin. But Jongin is happily stroking the calico, burger half-eaten and forgotten on the table.

The thing is, Baekhyun is having fun. More than he expected. At this intimate table, it’s easier to forget about the other stress in his life and just enjoy making small talk with a person he finds fascinating.

“By the way,” Jongin says, dipping a fry into their vegan milkshake. “This isn’t a date, right?”

Baekhyun chokes on his water. “Um, no?”

“Okay great. I’m talking to someone right now and—it’s not official but—”

“I get it,” Baekhyun nods. He’s happy they clarified things, anyway.

It could be awkward from that point on, but it isn’t. They have lovely conversations. Baekhyun hears about horrible professors and fun editorial internships. He shares anecdotes about sleepwalking. It’s fun.

The not-date puts him in such a good mood that he calls Jongdae afterwards, walking home from the cafe. Sun is peeking from beyond the clouds, just enough to streak the sky with orange, and Baekhyun watches it happily.

“ _ Hello _ ?”

“Hey, JD.”

“ _ What’s up _ ?”

He swallows hard. “Are you and Chanyeol free tonight?”

There’s a pause in which Jongdae and Chanyeol are probably silently communicating and also assessing his psychological state through the phone line. 

“ _ Yeah, do you want to meet up _ ?”

“Yeah, we should talk. Wanna go bowling?”

Jongdae sighs. “ _ Yeah, yeah. We’ll pick you up in thirty minutes _ .”

In the van, Baekhyun doesn’t speak. At the counter requesting shoes, he doesn’t speak. Finally, when their party of three has awkwardly acquired a lane to themselves, he sits down, crosses his legs, and says, “So, tell me everything.”

Chanyeol writes his bowling name as  _ real__pcy _ , but the monitor cuts him off at  _ real__p _ . He stands and points at Jongdae. “He asked if I wanted to hook up once after a gig.”

“That’s not true!” Jongdae screeches, catapulting himself from the couches into Chanyeol’s side. He smacks him away from the console. “I kissed you first. _ Then _ I asked if you wanted to fuck.”

Baekhyun blinks. “Wow. Why the fuck did I expect something better?”

“Hey, we’re super romantic.” Chanyeol shoots finger guns at them both.

Baekhyun snorts. Their conversation feels awkward still, with longer pauses than usual, and he can tell Jongdae is embarrassed because he won’t look up properly. He doesn’t really want to hear details. But he knows he needs the story, or else he’ll feel left out forever.

“Basically.” Chanyeol fists a twelve-pound ball. “We fucked.”

“And then we caught feelings.”

“And  _ then _ I panicked and drunkenly spilled everything to Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol shrugs and bowls a gutterball. “That’s why he knew. I was wasted at Queenie Dick’s one night—you know, the time I ended up in your bathroom puking while Kyungsoo washed my face?” 

Baekhyun cringes. “I remember.”

Recreational drugs could be blamed for all of their problems. Queenie Dick’s could also be blamed for all of their problems. Baekhyun listens to the story of how his two best friends fell in love, and to his surprise, he enjoys finding himself in their tales and saying, “Yeah, I remember—that makes so much fucking sense now!”

Especially the graffiti. “ _ You _ were the one asking for Chanyeol’s number in the bathroom? “ Baekhyun stabs a finger into Jongdae’s chest. “I thought it was a fan, I wrote back.”

There’s still a nugget of betrayal in his chest that won’t thaw quite yet. He needs time. Eventually the conversation morphs. They talk about school, music, and Jongdae’s shitty bowling skills, until the topic returns to their friend group once more.

Chanyeol casually bowls a strike and flops back onto the couch like a cocky, smiling bastard. “I think Sehun and Kyungsoo are going to get back together.”

Baekhyun’s heart stops. “What? Why?”

“Let’s not gossip,” Jongdae mutters, glancing at Baekhyun. He has to get up and bowl, though, so his comment goes ignored.

“You haven’t noticed? Kyungsoo’s been acting differently… and if _ I’m _ noticing, he must super obvious.”

“Different like how?” 

Chanyeol scratches at his hair. Even under fluorescent lights, the silver layers look terrifically sci-fi and fun. “I dunno, happier? More energetic? And he’s made some implied comments about dating but won’t tell me who.”

That’s frustratingly unspecific. The lights above their lane flicker. Jongdae knocks down three pins total and huffs his way back to his seat.

Baekhyun stalls by tightening the laces on his shoes. “What about Sehun?”

“He came home  _ very  _ early a couple Sundays ago.” Chanyeol wiggled his eyebrows gleefully. “If you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun says absently.

Several Sunday mornings ago would mean a Saturday night… when Kyungsoo said he was going out and came back semi-late? Oh god. Baekhyun feels a lump grow in his throat. They had hooked up two weeks ago. Sehun and Kyungsoo had sex. They were getting back together, that was irrefutable evidence, and Baekhyun was—what? A fun, spicy side dish?

Hot pressure builds behind his eyes. Baekhyun goes for the bowling balls and picks one at random. He can hear Jongdae behind him, arguing, “We don’t know if he hooked up with Kyungsoo. It could’ve been anyone.”

“He wouldn’t tell me who,” Chanyeol says. “So it’s gotta be Kyungsoo. Who else? Sehun likes to brag.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes and throws the ball straight into the gutter. He doesn’t bother with his second try, either, just chucks it sideways so that it topples into the gutter, too. He feels so stupid. He can’t even be mad, because Kyungsoo wanted this to be open. The boundaries were clear from the start. Baekhyun’s the idiot who got too attached.

He slouches cross-legged on the couch and tries not to visibly wallow. 

“Anyway,” Jongdae interjects, shoving Chanyeol up to the alley for his turn. “I think that’s bullshit. Can we discuss the Billie Eilish album?”

“Ew,” Baekhyun says reflexively, and that begins an entirely different argument.

He boxes up his heartbreak for the rest of the evening, but in the car headed home, Baekhyun closes his eyes and presses his face to the window. It’s nearly winter break. After Bands, he can go home to his parents and forget about Kyungsoo. Forget about his soft hands, his strong shoulders…

Shit. He refuses to cry in the backseat of Chanyeol’s ugly van—it already smells like Cheetos and despair. Baekhyun’s phone buzzes at that exact moment.

 

From: Jongin

_ Here’s a link to my favorite makeup artist on Youtube!! His skin tone is a bit darker than yours but there’s no bad place to start~ if you’re still interested :D :D _

 

Baekhyun shoots off a thank you with extra emoji hearts. At least he has Jongin. Not as a second choice or anything—just as friends. Good friends. They end up texting the entire drive home. Baekhyun invites them to Battle of the Bands.

He’s dreading going home and seeing Kyungsoo, but can’t stall in Chanyeol’s backseat forever. Jongdae gives him a weird look when Baekhyun hesitates to open the door. 

Baekhyun clears his throat. “Thanks for driving. Uh, see you guys later.”

Chanyeol shoots finger guns. “See you at the musical.”

“Right. Bye!”

He shuts the door and hurries upstairs. The image of Sehun and Kyungsoo together won’t leave him—it’s like a reel playing over and over again behind his eyelids. He remembers when they dated. Kyungsoo laughed often, ate at fancy restaurants, wore Sehun’s sweaters. He was happy.

Baekhyun enters the apartment to find Kyungsoo doing homework in bed. His pen is moving slowly over the paper, eyes drooping and bangs falling in his face. He looks cuddly and exhausted. It hurts somewhere in Baekhyun’s chest to look at him.

Cautiously he steps into Kyungsoo’s room. “Hey.”

“How did bowling go?” Kyungsoo looks up and blinks slowly. His brows crease with worry.

“It went okay.” Baekhyun sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m not mad anymore.”

Kyungsoo pushes his papers onto the floor and curls himself toward Baekhyun, resting his arms lightly around Baekhyun’s waist. “Good,” he says, smiling.

He knows he shouldn’t, but Baekhyun burrows into the sheets with Kyungsoo. It’s a terrible idea to press himself against that warm skin, even if it makes them both sigh happily, and Baekhyun doesn’t have the strength to deny himself this. He feels like a stormcloud barely held at bay. Tucking his nose into the curve of Kyungsoo’s neck, he mumbles, “I missed you.”

“At bowling?” Kyungsoo chuckles. The vibrations move both of their bodies.

“All day.”

Kyungsoo hums and pats Baekhyun’s hair. “I missed you too. Dress rehearsal was brutal. I just want opening weekend to be here already.”

They fit together so easily it doesn’t register, at first, that this is their first time cuddling in Kyungsoo’s bed. For some reason they always go into the other bedroom. Or the living room. It smells nice here, like laundry and fresh air. 

Running absent hands down Kyungsoo’s chest, Baekhyun decides that he wants to forget what he heard at bowling. He looks at Kyungsoo to gauge his interest. Kyungsoo is staring, eyes dark, breathing deep and slow. Reacting to the hands on his shirt by leaning in, just a little.

Baekhyun moves closer and brushes his lips against the shell of Kyungsoo’s ear. “Distract me?”

Swallowing hard, Kyungsoo nods. “Distract me back?”

He repositions them so Baekhyun is flat on his back, hair splayed over the pillow, and drops tiny, experimental kisses on his cheeks and jaw. It’s clumsy. It’s intimate. It’s so cute that Baekhyun feels his heart trip in his chest, and his smile hurts his cheeks. 

“Not like _ this _ ,” he giggles, pushing Kyungsoo’s face away with one hand as he tries to peck his nose, his eyebrows, everywhere. 

Then Baekhyun turns quick enough to catch his lips with his own. He melts into the proper kiss, pressing, teasing.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

  
  


The night of the long-awaited musical dawns with cloudy skies and a bouquet of yellow roses. Baekhyun glares at himself in the bathroom mirror. “This is fine. This is gonna be cool. You’re a goddamn icon, Baekhyun.”

He pops open the little square of eyeshadow that Jongin let him borrow yesterday. It has nine colors, all vaguely natural, but the one that catches his eye is a gentle, shimmering silver. He lathers up with his finger and spreads it over his lids. It blends nicely, which Jongin said it would, and he quickly draws eyeliner on top before he loses his nerve.

Baekhyun steps back. To his relief, he still looks like himself—and he still looks masculine—but he’s  _ pretty,  _ too. A pretty boy.

He loves it.

After a quick selfie or twenty, he skates to campus and sees Jongin at the edge of the crowd outside the auditorium. Baekhyun stashes the board behind Kyungsoo’s favorite bench and thrashes his arm back and forth. “Jongin! Hey!”

“Wow.” Jongin looks up from their phone and blinks. “You look nice.”

“Thank you! I used your eyeshadow!”

“I can tell.” Jongin pockets the phone and grins. They’re dressed down tonight, in a white shirt that sets their skin aglow. “You couldn’t find jeans that aren’t ripped?”

Baekhyun crosses his arms. “These are stylish.”

“They’re very… skater.”

“Yeah. That’s my style.”

“Skater boy with pretty makeup.”

“Exactly.” Baekhyun shoots finger guns. He glances past Jongin at the crowd around the ticket booth. He can see Chanyeol wading toward the doors, a head taller than everyone else. “Do you have a ticket yet? Can we go inside?”

Jongin agrees and they hurry into the theater. This is one of Baekhyun’s favorite places to be—he only ever comes to see Kyungsoo and his small roles in the annual musical, but this year he’s here to see Kyungsoo as the lead. Baekhyun knows better than anyone how hard his roommate has worked.

He’s proud. He’s excited. And he’s so, so in love.

Baekhyun swallows hard and tries to relax. They snag seats in the third row, middle section, and Baekhyun stands with both arms up to flag down Chanyeol and Jongdae. “Hey, assbags! Over here!” 

That absolutely gets their attention. Unfortunately, Sehun trails behind them, looking aggressive and delectable in a suit. Who the fuck wears a suit to collegiate theater? How infuriating. He’s also carrying a bouquet of flowers.

It’s bigger than Baekhyun’s bouquet.

So he takes a deep breath and pastes on a huge smile. Jongdae absolutely takes note and gives him a  _ look _ as they shuffle into the row, but Baekhyun just says, “Are you guys ready for this?”

“I’m so excited,” Chanyeol gushes, oblivious to the tension.

To Baekhyun’s surprise, Sehun doesn’t drop a thinly-veiled insult. His eyes roam beyond, to the next seat, where Jongin is outright staring at Sehun. They exchange a charged glance. Sehun sits with his head down, lips thin, and remains completely silent. 

Interesting. Baekhyun retakes his seat, commandeering Jongdae’s armrest on his left and leaning right to whisper in Jongin’s ear. “Do you know Sehun?”

“His name is Sehun?” Jongin sinks into their seat and brushes away the bangs that fall in their face. “Um. I don’t  _ know  _ him.”

“But you’ve seen him?”

“We…” Jongin’s eyes shift nervously over the audience members pouring into their seats. They fixate on the curtains straight ahead. “We might’ve hooked up once.”

Baekhyun nearly falls forward out of his seat. “ _ What _ ?”

“Shh, it’s not a big deal—”

“When?”

Jongin clears their throat. “Last month.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Baekhyun settles back and exhales. “That’s crazy.”

“He was really good.”

Baekhyun pretends to vomit into his sleeve, but his wheezes turn into laughter. “I think you guys would get along,” he admits. “But you’re way too good for him.”

This time Baekhyun is ready for Jongin’s blush. He ruffles their hair and shifts the bouquet on his lap so the rose petals stroke against Jongin’s arm. 

“Stop.” Jongin wriggles, like they’re uncomfortable, but they’re smiling. “Are you stroking me with flowers?”

“Yes.”

“You gonna give them to me?”

“ _ No _ , these are for Kyungsoo!” Baekhyun sits straighter and remembers where they are. “When does the show start?”

The seats are almost full now, and a comfortable buzz has taken over the auditorium. He glances over to see Jongdae surreptitiously watching him with furrowed brows. Oops. That exchange with Jongin just now probably looked… strange.

“Should be now,” Jongin says, relaxing into the seat. 

On cue, the lights dim. Baekhyun’s heart accelerates. A voice comes over the speaker announcing house rules, followed by a swelling of magical, instrumental music.

_ Swing Kids  _ opens with Kyungsoo centerstage under a blinding spotlight. He raises his head, looking out over the audience solemnly, and places an army cap on his head. Baekhyun loses his breath. A collective hush falls over the audience.

The musical passes in a whirl of music and lights and tapping feet. Baekhyun doesn’t look away even once. Kyungsoo is  _ stunning _ . Baekhyun wants to snap a hundred pictures of him, but he can’t risk being kicked out for breaking the rules, so he sits restless and mesmerized for two hours and twelve minutes.

When Kyungsoo performs, he ascends. He brings life and glory to these roles and becomes someone  _ bigger _ . It’s an incredible skill that’s almost painful to watch. Baekhyun has a sinking feeling that he can’t hold onto Kyungsoo—no one can.

The musical ends and Baekhyun shoots from his seat, clapping hard and whooping. He inflates with pride as Kyungsoo bows beside his castmates. But that melancholy feeling collects like a cloud above his head. There Kyungsoo goes, smiling, glowing like an angel, all while Baekhyun’s heart is breaking in the third row.

Luckily Baekhyun is the first to see him exit the stage door. He throws himself into Kyungsoo’s arms, displacing the costume bag over his shoulder and sending them both careening into the wall.

“You were so amazing, holy fuck.” Baekhyun tucks his chin into Kyungsoo’s shoulder, inhaling the warm smell of him. His whole body sings when they touch. He presses the flowers into his hands. “Congratulations, I’m so proud of you, I—”

He gets a little choked up and cuts off.  _ I wish I could kiss you. _

Kyungsoo squeezes him back just as tight. “Thank you! I saw you in the front, with—”

Then Chanyeol spots Kyungsoo and their corner erupts into chaos. Chanyeol scoops them both into a hug, kisses the top of Kyungsoo’s head, and loudly invites the rest of their little party closer. Jongin somehow gets their arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulder to squeeze. Jongdae screams. Everyone is saying congratulations at the same time and Kyungsoo’s smile is just getting bigger and bigger and bigger—it’s awesome.

_ That’s my roommate!  _ Baekhyun wants to scream at all the other family members waiting for their cast member.  _ That’s my best friend! That’s my… someone. _

He sees the moment Sehun and Kyungsoo make eye contact. Kyungsoo softens and pushes out of Chanyeol’s arms. Sehun hands over the flowers, Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows, and it’s like something out of a fucking fairytale where time stops and all they can see is each other.

Baekhyun steps back.

If Kyungsoo wants to get back together with Sehun, that’s his choice. Baekhyun can’t keep stringing himself along, hoping for an exclusive attention that Kyungsoo has never promised him. It might ruin their friendship. It might shatter Baekhyun’s heart indefinitely.

He hugs Kyungsoo goodbye when he leaves for the cast-only afterparty, and if Baekhyun holds him a little too close and too long, well, that’s nobody’s business. He doesn’t have much time left—he has to let go.

Baekhyun sleeps alone that night.

 

He’s still mopey the next morning at band rehearsal, but he can’t afford not to focus. They have six days until the competition.

“I can’t believe it’s almost time.” Jongdae drums his fingers on the mic stand. He’s wearing a thick sweatshirt even in the safety of Chanyeol’s basement because he’s  _ terrified  _ of catching a cold. If his voice goes, they’re fucked.

Chanyeol adjusts his snare drum. “We’re ready. We’re gonna kill it.”

“Did you hear the dean of the music school is going?” Baekhyun listlessly uses one index finger to dust the black keys on his keyboard. One at a time.

“No way. Why?” Jongdae frowns. “This isn’t a school-sponsored event.”

Chanyeol shrugs. “Maybe there are enough students participating, he got interested.”

Baekhyun grunts. “Whatever floats his very rich boat.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Before that can devolve into an argument, Jongdae interrupts. “Baekhyun. Actually. We wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh god.” He buries his hands in his hair. “You’re not getting married already, right? Who’s fucking best man will I be?”

“ _ No _ , god.” Jongdae rolls his eyes and looks away. He might be blushing. “You left your notebook on Friday and I opened it to the first page, because I’m an asshole.”

That’s unexpected. Baekhyun knows exactly what’s on the first page of his notebook, and his stomach drops. “Oh?”

“We want to play your original song next weekend.” Chanyeol points at him with a drumstick. “It’s really good, Baek.”

He cringes just thinking about his two best friends reading those lyrics. Jongdae probably knows they’re about Kyungsoo, but Chanyeol might not, and he doesn’t want him to find out. The song is way too personal.

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Ehhh, I don’t know. Playing a brand new original song is—kinda risky. I thought we agreed on covers and crowd favorites.”

“This will be a crowd favorite.” Chanyeol nods and smacks his gum. “Trust.”

Jongdae throws up his arms. “Plus, it’s a super last minute decision and that is on brand for us!” 

He and Chanyeol high-five. Baekhyun recognizes this as one of the rare times in which both other BEEGLES are in agreement and Jongdae isn’t the tie-breaker. So his song is actually  _ good _ ? This has to be real. Chanyeol’s a music snob. He’d never support a subpar selection.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I,” Baekhyun says slowly, leaning back against the wall with his legs spread over the stool. “I guess we can try it.”

Immediately Jongdae motions him over with a hand. “Great, you’re on vocals.”

“What?”

“You  _ wrote _ it, you have to  _ sing  _ it.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol pipes up. “Jongdae needs the practice on keys anyway.”

“Hey!”

They dissolve into argument. The room feels smaller as Baekhyun approaches the mic stand. He hasn’t taken lead vocals for the BEEGLES in months, and he has to lick his lips several times before he feels ready to speak again.

Jongdae’s in the middle of a full-blown whine. “—am  _ not _ hogging the damn spotlight and if you really think that I’ll be offended—”

“Are we ready to start?” Baekhyun interrupts.

Smacking his gum, Chanyeol nods. “Let’s go. I’ll make it up to you, Jongdae.”

He winks, and so they go. The song is clunky at first, since Jongdae and Chanyeol only practiced it a few times on their own, but Baekhyun has to admit it sounds good. Really good. He closes his eyes and sinks into the notes. At the end of the last chorus, he tapers off, panting, feeling a golden rush in his chest. That was  _ his song _ .

Baekhyun turns around and Jongdae is beaming.

“That was sick as fuck.” Chanyeol sets down the drumsticks. “Sexy, too.”

Jongdae nods. “We’re doing it. Absolutely.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun squeezes the mic stand and laughs a little hysterically. “Okay, we’re doing it.”

“Are you keeping the title?” Jongdae turns off the keyboard. He’s cautious, as if expecting Baekhyun to get defensive. He definitely knows it’s about Kyungsoo. Baekhyun is lucky he’s not demanding information right this second.

He sighs. It’s too obvious. Performing this song will be his own chance to heal and move on—he might as well go out there and be honest to himself for once. 

“Yeah,” he says. “It should stay  _ Love, Love, Love _ .”

They practice again and again and again until the sun is down. Baekhyun bids them goodbye and skates home, blasting music on his headphones. It takes genuine effort to refrain from smiling at random people on the street. He feels like he’s floating, lost in his own world, until he almost rams headfirst into a car stopped at red light.

As Baekhyun unlocks the door and shoves his board onto the shoe rack, he hears Kyungsoo humming from the couch. “I’m home!” He calls.

“Hey.” Kyungsoo sits up from the couch. “How was your day?”

Something about him looks different in a good way. He’s sitting very straight, a blanket pooled in his lap, with a half-empty bowl of takeout noodles on the ottoman, and the edges of his black sweater pulled over his palms. It’s a very Kyungsoo look, nothing out of the ordinary. But something is lit up behind his eyes.

“My day was good.” Baekhyun throws his bag into his room and sprawls on the couch beside his roommate, enjoying the cushions. A rerun of some cartoon is playing silently on the TV. “What about you? You look pretty happy.”

“I have something to tell you.” Kyungsoo angles to face him head-on. He blinks, and dark lashes fall over dark eyes. 

“What is it?”

“I got into the summer abroad program.”

_ That _ isn’t what Baekhyun expects to hear. His breath leaves him in one huge whoosh. “Oh,” he whispers, then clears his throat and continues. “That’s amazing. Oh, my god, that was so fast? Holy shit. Congratulations!”

Baekhyun pulls him into a hug. Kyungsoo comes easily, folding his arms tight and snuggling his chin into a shoulder. He’s practically radiating joy. They fit together as easy as always, and Baekhyun can’t resist tipping sideways until they’re flat on the couch with Kyungsoo on top and laughing into the pillows.

Kyungsoo shifts and props himself up with one hand. He grins down at Baekhyun. “Yeah,” he says, eyes shifting down to Baekhyun’s lips. “It was really quick.”

“Are you excited?”

“I’m so excited.”

“That’s so cool oh my—”

Kyungsoo kisses him. Lightly, almost as if he didn’t mean to, but when he pulls back he’s still smiling. Baekhyun doesn’t know who moves first next, but suddenly they’re kissing again, and his hand is running through Kyungsoo’s short hair.

They slide together effortlessly. 

It’s obvious Kyungsoo is happy because he takes his time kissing along Baekhyun’s neck and cheeks before returning to his mouth, then making the rotation again. His lips are slow and luscious and Baekhyun feels like he’s  _ drowning.  _ His hand traces along Kyungsoo’s spine and feels every muscle in his body shift when he moves. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever felt. His eyes flutter closed.

Then Baekhyun remembers why they’re kissing.

An ice cold douse of reality slaps him in the face. He opens his eyes and twitches away from Kyungsoo, subtly, but enough to disconnect their faces.

Kyungsoo settles back, still looking soft and pink and  _ happy _ . He deserves to stay that happy. Baekhyun can be strong enough to let him go, to let him pursue something with Sehun again, or a cute Italian person over the summer.

He takes a deep breath. “Um, semi-related to Italy, I actually wanted to talk to you.”

Kyungsoo blinks. His smile fades. “Go on.”

“Can we…” Baekhyun swallows. “Can we sit up?”

Now it’s awkward. They shuffle vertically onto the cushions and Baekhyun resists the urge to touch his own lips, feel where they tingle, and live forever in the last two minutes. He can’t go back. He wants to be happy, too, and this pseudo-relationship isn’t making him happy.

“I think we should stop messing around.” He knits his fingers together and lays them on his lap. Lights from the city outside reflect in Kyungsoo’s glasses and he fixates on those so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. “Especially if you’re going abroad. You should have the freedom to see other people without anyone dragging you down, and I—I just can’t do this anymore.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he says quickly. “It’s just, you know. Time to end things.”

“But—why?”

Nervously Baekhyun swallows. He can’t exactly say,  _ yeah I’ve had feelings for you the entire time and I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind _ . Then Kyungsoo will run away as fast as he can to Italy and never come back. He grabs the remote and flips off the TV, because it suddenly feels wrong to be breaking up in front of Aang and his friends.

Baekhyun bites his lip and tries to smile. “I mean, we’re not that serious. I just feel like this is a pretty natural end.”

“I see.” Kyungsoo blinks and doesn’t move. He looks like a statue. 

Why isn’t he reacting? Baekhyun’s heart flips. He was expecting an easy agreement. Awkwardly he scratches at the back of his neck and continues, “Yeah. Hahaha. You wanna know something funny? This all started because of a bad trip.”

Kyungsoo leans back against the couch and lifts both eyebrows. “A bad trip?”

“It was the last time I hung out with Lu Han, remember, when I came home and slept in your bed? I had a dream that night we kissed.” Baekhyun plays with his own fingers. He’s babbling, he knows, but he doesn’t know how else to salvage the situation when Kyungsoo isn’t saying anything.

_ Make him laugh, just make him laugh,  _ he thinks wildly.

“A dream,” Kyungsoo echoes unhelpfully.

“Yeah. That’s the whole reason I kissed you at karaoke.” He shrugs. “And everything that happened after… it’s pretty funny, right?”

Kyungsoo slowly shakes his head. All the light has left his eyes and now he looks serious and small against the backdrop of the couch. “Not that funny.”

Baekhyun’s heart drops. He made it worse. Of course he did, he should’ve explained better, he should’ve been more honest—

But he’s too late. Kyungsoo stands and shoves the blanket onto the couch. Before Baekhyun can speak, his roommate has put away the leftovers and started washing the dishes. A metaphorical door has slammed between them.

This is all wrong. Kyungsoo is more upset now than before.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Baekhyun pads over to the sink and grabs a towel to dry. Even though he knows the answer, he asks, “Are you upset?”

Kyungsoo shrugs and doesn’t look away from his soapy hands clutching a plate. “It’s fine if you don’t want to do this anymore. I should’ve expected—you—”

His face screws up. Like he’s about to cry. Baekhyun’s only seen that face a couple times before, and it absolutely terrifies him, that Kyungsoo looks so heartbroken because of  _ him _ . It’s official. He’s a terrible person.

But Kyungsoo collects himself and resumes scrubbing the plate. “We had to stop at some point. I’m not upset about that. Just, don’t tell me next time you fuck up our entire relationship because you were  _ too high _ , okay?”

“Whoa.” Baekhyun grabs the plate and works it through the towel. “That’s not what I said. That’s not what happened.”

He pushes the plate into a cupboard and whirls around to continue. “Kyungsoo,  _ look at me _ .”

Kyungsoo drops the sponge and mug he was holding. They clatter into the semi-full sink, sending suds splattering over the faucet and Kyungsoo’s shirt. Only roommates would argue while doing the dishes. Baekhyun would laugh if he weren’t currently terrified of losing his best friend. 

Tentatively Baekhyun reaches for Kyungsoo’s elbow and turns him so they’re face-to-face. He brings the towel to Kyungsoo’s wet, soapy hands and dries them one finger at a time. As he slides over Kyungsoo’s skin, he speaks, low and serious.

“I was just making a stupid joke,” he admits. “Yeah, I had a weird dream, but I had real feelings for you. I wasn’t lying when I told you that.”

_ I still have real feelings for you _ , he wants to say. But his mantra has become don’t scare him, don’t lose him, don’t push him away...

Shaking his head, Kyungsoo looks up from his dry hands. “No, I’m sorry. You’re fine. Of course we can stop. I’m the one who said we shouldn’t get serious.” He swallows hard. “As long as—do you still want to live with me?”

“What?” Baekhyun rocks back on his heels. “Of course. What the fuck. You better not break the lease when you get back from Italy, I don’t care how many opera-singing pizzeria men you meet.”

Kyungsoo breaks into a small smile. He doesn’t look happy, more like a weight has been lifted away from his shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay. So we’re good?”

“If you help me finish these dishes.”

Belatedly Baekhyun realizes he’s still holding both of Kyungsoo’s hands in the towel. He jerks back, stretching to make it look less awkward, and nods. Their kitchen is a mess anyway. Doing the dishes together might make Baekhyun feel less like running away and crying. 

“Of course.” He takes a deep breath, retrieves the mug from the sink, and starts drying. 

Kyungsoo hesitates. “Baekhyun, I just want you to know that I  _ really _ like you.”

Surprised, Baekhyun drops the mug. It shatters into a dozen pieces on the tile floor. “Shit,” he yelps, scrambling backwards as broken glass cascades over his feet. “Oops.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, and he scoops up the pieces carefully. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Baekhyun examines the tops of his feet. “I don’t think so. Um, but I really like you, too. Obviously.”

The remains of the mug are tossed into the trash. Baekhyun yawns, scrubbing a hand through his hair. This has been an exhausting conversation and he just wants to crawl into his cold, lonely bed and forget that he ever learned the taste of Kyungsoo’s lips.

Kyungsoo frowns with both hands hovering over the sink, as if he’s not sure whether or not to continue. “But—doesn’t that change—”

He’s interrupted by the shrill ringtone of  _ Whaddya Want From Me?  _ Baekhyun’s phone, discarded on the table, is lighting up. A perfect escape.

“Jongdae again,” Baekhyun groans. He chucks the towel on the counter, grabs his phone, and ducks into his bedroom. “Leave the drying for me!”

Then he shuts the door and answers. “Hello?”

“ _ Oh good, we thought you might be asleep _ .  _ Do you wanna come back over? I’m staying the night so we figured might as well practice until we pass out, drink mimosas instead of breakfast, and get ready for Bands together? _ ”

Baekhyun sighs. Here’s a literal pass out of his awkward apartment. A way to forget his broken heart and the next bedroom. They don’t know it, but Chanyeol and Jongdae have called at the perfect time. He leans back against his bedroom door, closes his eyes, and says, “Leave the door unlocked for me, baby. I’ll be right there.”

  
  
  


The morning of Battle of the Bands begins with a blasting alarm in Baekhyun’s ear, unfamiliar and grating, so he immediately rolls off Chanyeol’s couch and elbows himself in the stomach.

The windows are pre-dawn dark. A halfhearted kitchen light flickers above the stove, and there’s a muffled groaning from beyond the adjacent wall. A bedroom door slams open and Chanyeol’s bedhead and crinkled eyes emerge. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun mumbles, starfishing on the carpet.

“Awake enough to make bacon?”

“ _ Fine _ .”

He gets up and wraps the blanket around his shoulders like a bulky cape. Chanyeol deserves bacon anyway, for inviting him back last night.

But Sehun? Doesn’t really deserve bacon. When he emerges puffy-eyed from the other bedroom to sneak fresh bits off the paper towel, Baekhyun swats his face away.

“Hey,” Sehun whines. “You’re a guest in  _ my  _ apartment, too.”

It would be rude of Baekhyun to make a smart-ass comment, even though he really wants to, so he bites his lip and passes Sehun a slice. Evil, manipulative Kyungsoo-stealer. 

“But that’s all you get,” he adds, waggling a spatula, because he can’t help it. “We need the nutrients. Long day ahead.”

Jongdae appears half-dressed in the doorway. A white tank hangs untucked over leather pants, and Baekhyun whistles before he can speak. “Looking fine, Mr. Lead Vocals.”

“Right back atcha, Mr.  _ Baecon _ . Haha. Get it?”

Baekhyun shimmies over the pan. “Oh, I got it.”

“Ew.” Sehun slides back into his bedroom and shuts the door.

Good riddance. Baekhyun spitefully crunches his bacon louder and finishes frying the last batch. He passes the full plate to Jongdae, who pretends to wipe away a dollop of drool.

“Thanks, man. Go get dressed. We’re leaving at seven, coffee’s on me.”

“Gotcha!” Baekhyun salutes and goes to retrieve his bag from Chanyeol’s bedroom.

Except when he steps through a curtain of leftover hairspray into the room, Chanyeol is shirtless and arguing in whispers over the phone. He’s sitting on the bed, facing away from the door, so he doesn’t see Baekhyun enter.

“Hey—it’s gonna be fine. You’re an incredible vocalist, don’t worry about that right now. No—he’ll love it. Trust me. I mean. I don’t think this is a replacement for a conversation, but… Yo, shut up, I can be mature. Why’d you call me? Cause I can be mature. And I know you both.”

Baekhyun suspects he isn’t meant to hear this, so he deliberately jostles the bed reaching for his bag. Chanyeol confirms his suspicions and almost jumps out of his own skin.

Eyes wide, he stammers, “Yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine. I gotta get ready. Call if—call if you need anything. Bye.” He hangs up.

“Was that Kyungsoo?”

Chanyeol squints at the ceiling like he’s looking for a plausible lie. “Yes.”

“Is he okay?” Baekhyun’s hands still over his rumpled clothes.

“He’s feeling anxious.”

“I should call him.”

“No.” Chanyeol twists around and watches Baekhyun undress, wide-eyed and emphatic. “No, you should not. He’ll be fine, he’s still half-asleep, and you’ll see him at Bands.”

Annoyed that he’s right, Baekhyun tugs too hard on his pants. They almost rip. He stops, takes a deep breath, and puts on his goddamn leather pants slowly because he is  _ a rockstar.  _ Emotionally distraught or not.

Baekhyun just can’t imagine what he’ll do when Kyungsoo is right in front of him, singing his heart out with Minseok, looking like Baekhyun’s biggest regret. They’re still best friends. They both deserve to be happy and fulfilled.

At least that’s what he tell himself when he locks himself in the bathroom for a thorough application of smoky orange eyeshadow and black liner. He’s going to look amazing today, if nothing else.

The band loads equipment and tumbles into Chanyeol’s van as the sun splits the horizon. A blinding yellow sunrise makes Sehun almost impossible to see at the window, waving and blowing sarcastic little kisses that Chanyeol eagerly returns. 

“Check-in starts in fifteen.” Baekhyun pounds his fist on the back of Chanyeol’s headrest.

“Ow!”

“Don’t damage my drummer.” Jongdae flicks him in retaliation and Baekhyun shies away, filled with a nervous energy. “Not till after we have the cash.”

The city speeds by. Baekhyun taps his fingers on the center console. Why does he  _ always  _ sit in the back of the van, anyways? He should’ve known he was third-wheeling from the beginning.

“Do you really think we’ll win?” Baekhyun compulsively checks his phone again to see if Kyungsoo needs him.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says.

“God, I fucking hope so.” Jongdae taps away at his phone, playing a game that looks suspiciously like Episode: Choose Your Story. His silver snake rings are slipping. “If only to see the look on Seulgi’s face, you know?”

“She  _ has  _ to give us Teatro then.”

“We could go on tour.” Chanyeol taps his fingers on the armrest. “A local tour.”

The car falls silent. They haven’t thought of that—but it’s true, and it’s wonderful, and Chanyeol probably shouldn’t have said it out loud in case he jinxes it.

They pull into a semi-filled parking lot and lug their equipment into the Segerstrom event hall. It’s an enormous silver-crowned theater. The walls are painted purple and every cushioned black seat smells faintly of antiseptic. Both stall doors in the men’s bathroom are broken. Baekhyun instantly loves it.

Jongdae checks in for the BEDAZZLED BEEGLES at a tiny folding table in the corner, then corrals their equipment backstage to a dust-free dressing room. There’s glitter on the orange carpet—but no stained blue couch, no greasy port-a-potty, and no broken bathroom mirror.

They take a band selfie. “Your makeup looks awesome, man,” Jongdae says, clapping him on the back. In the corner, Chanyeol makes an agreeable grunting noise that probably means he thinks the same.

Baekhyun beams. “Thanks! Jongin and YouTube taught me.”

Chanyeol spins in the center of the room, arms out. “This place is a palace!”

They carefully review their equipment and sheet music one last time. Jongdae then goes live in Instagram, crowing over the clean carpet. “Check-in done, soundcheck in thirty minutes! Can’t wait to see you guys there!” 

He waves cheesily at the camera and Baekhyun has to walk away before he laughs and offends Jongdae. There should be a vending machine somewhere. Sliding through the hallways, he passes all kinds of dressed up performers—a tall cluster of girls in leather skirts, a blonde guy strumming a banjo, and even a classmate he recognizes from his music theory elective wearing a three-piece suit.

Baekhyun squeezes through the growing crowd until he finds a vending machine outside the backdoor entrance. His stomach growls as he plugs in the number for a bag of pretzels.  _ Should’ve had more bacon. _

“Oh hey, fancy seeing you here.”

Baekhyun turns around so fast he almost smacks his head into the vending machine. “Ohmygod, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” Minseok smiles, smoothing down the front of his khaki blazer self-consciously. “Are you ready for today? I saw the BEEGLES are going nearly last, that’s pretty lucky.”

The vending machine spits out a bag of pretzels. Baekhyun is vaguely surprised that Minseok remembers the name of his band, since they’re really only friends-of-friends through Kyungsoo, but he’s pleased. A real talented guy like Minseok, looking forward to the BEEGLES setlist? An honor.

“Yeah, we’re really excited.” Baekhyun steps back so Minseok can order. “Kyungsoo says you guys have been working really hard. He won’t tell me what you’re singing.”

He pulls open the bag of pretzels. Naturally, it’s half air. Minseok swipes his card for an iced tea and a bag of chocolate chip cookies. There’s a funny little smile on his face when he turns back and says, “I think he’s a little nervous about your reaction. I hope you enjoy our performance, Baekhyun. See you later.”

“Wait, what—” Baekhyun stutters, but Minseok is already disappearing into the crowd. He waves after his retreating back. “Break a leg!”

What a weird thing to say. As if Baekhyun could be anything but proud after watching Kyungsoo sing. That comment, paired with Chanyeol’s odd phone conversation this morning, is making him doubly suspicious. Something is wrong with Kyungsoo. And it might be his fault.

Should he call? Baekhyun weaves through the crowd, most of whom are settling down in the audience for soundcheck, and tries in vain to spot Kyungsoo’s head among the seats. What if he needs reassurance? Baekhyun didn’t even think about his roommate’s infamous stage fright last night when he callously left for Chanyeol’s apartment. He’s so careless.

All thoughts of Kyungsoo fly out the window when he returns to their dressing room and sees Chanyeol, silver hair in disarray, puking into a trash can. Jongdae is mysteriously absent.

Flashbacks of frat parties freshman year freeze Baekhyun in the threshold of the door. “What. The fuck. Happened.”

“It’s not alcohol poisoning,” Chanyeol coughs. His wrists are trembling around the rim of the can. “Jut nerves. It’s okay.”

“Where’s Jongdae?”

“Getting me some water.”

Baekhyun kneels on the carpet and hands over the remaining pretzels. “Here, try to keep these down. You need more in your stomach.”

At this point, he should also be puking from the worms of nervous energy in his gut, but Baekhyun has reached a point of transcendence. He is post-stage fright. He is existing on another plane, one where running into Minseok at the vending machine does not bring forth strange concerns about Kyungsoo, and everything is fine.

“Everything’s fine.” He pats Chanyeol’s back as he tries, with a tortured expression, to eat the pretzels. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

“There’s so much money on the line,” Chanyeol moans, eyes glazed over. 

A woman in a headset knocks and peeks into their room. “Soundcheck in five—oh, is everything okay in here?”

“We’re great.” Baekhyun gives her a thumbs-up. “We’ll be out in a sec.”

They are not out in a sec. They miss soundcheck entirely. Jongdae wraps his leather jacket around his face and has a panic attack. Baekhyun pours an entire bottle of cold water on Chanyeol’s face. Chanyeol stops puking after thirty minutes, but by then the competition is about to start and they have to hurry to their assigned seats in the audience.

“Sorry, sorry,” Chanyeol is chanting as they scoot into the back row. He nearly trips over a goth girl’s legs and his apologies get louder.

They collapse into the seats together. Every seat is packed and many audience members brought signs, blown-up photographs, and merchandise for their respective favorite bands. A professional photography team in yellow lanyards are walking up and down the rows.

Jongdae looks paler than plain rice. “What if the guitar comes unplugged in the middle of  _ Barracuda _ ?”

Baekhyun bites his lip. “Everything’s fine, everything’s fine.”

That has become his mantra. He can’t fix the BEEGLES’ situation, but he can try to be a positive force for the group. He grips Jongdae’s hand as the lights go down. “I believe in you, JD.”

“I believe in us, too.” Chanyeol repeats, voice hollow and shaking.

“Till the end.” Jongdae grabs Chanyeol’s hand on his other side.

They sit as one, far from the stage, watching the MC welcome the audience. Cheers and screams fill the auditorium. Baekhyun can’t see a single face he recognizes. Their cue to head backstage is a girl group named Mama-something, and he’s terrified of missing their set and missing their cue.

Chanyeol leans back and closes his eyes. “Wake me up when Kyungsoo performs.”

Performances kick off with a techno guitar duo from a town thirty minutes south. The first performance is memorable, and the rest blur together, music into music, until two familiar names are announced next.

“Introducing contestants seven, Kim Minseok and Do Kyungsoo!”

Instantly Baekhyun is awake. He reaches over and slaps Chanyeol in the arm. The lights go up with Minseok sitting on a stool with a guitar… and Kyungsoo centerstage in a gorgeous navy turtleneck and upswept hair. He looks incredible. He looks nervous.

Even from this distance, Baekhyun can see when he licks his lips. “Hi guys,” he says softly. “We’re a new duo, and this is our first song, _ What About Now _ .”

Just in time, Baekhyun remembers to record the performance on his phone. The first song has a rock adjacent singer-songwriter vibe, and they smoothly transition into a guitar RnB jam. Kyungsoo handles each with grace and talent. How can his voice be perfect for so many different genres?

Baekhyun doesn’t realize he’s leaning forward in his seat until the last song begins and he has to readjust the camera. Minseok starts off slow on the guitar, giving Kyungsoo enough time to say, “This one’s for you, you know who you are.”

Then Baekhyun recognizes the opening notes for  _ Let Me  _ by Zayn. His heart stutters. He  _ loves  _ this song—and did Kyungsoo just dedicate it to Sehun?

He doesn’t even care. The words sound so sweet and beautiful in Kyungsoo’s mouth, spilling over the audience, warming the room. Several whoops echo through the audience when Kyungsoo hits the chorus. 

“ _ Baby, let me be your man, so I can love you… _ ”

He’s beautiful.  _ He’s not mine.  _

Discreetly Baekhyun wipes his eyes at the end of the song. His chest feels empty.

Intermission is announced as soon as they leave the stage. Baekhyun is out of his seat before he can really think about moving—he wants to see Kyungsoo. He wants to hold him and congratulate him and…

He shouldn’t. It will only make him want  _ more _ . 

Chanyeol grabs his sleeve. “What did you think?”

“They were awesome,” he says, because duh.

But Chanyeol raises one eyebrow, semi-smiling, like he expects more. That’s his patented  _ Baekhyun is being a dumbass  _ face. Baekhyun is too shattered to ask what’s going on. He tugs his sleeve free and walks away.

Instead of rushing backstage like he wants, Baekhyun ducks his head and goes outside to get some fresh air. It’s a freezing afternoon. Dark clouds on the horizon speak to snow later in the evening. He rubs his hands together and dodges groups of audience members with the same idea.

He sees a familiar face ahead, leaning against the closed doors to the box office. “Hey! Jongin!”

“Hey—wow, someone looks good.” Jongin grins at him and holds out both arms for a hug. Baekhyun falls into them gratefully, burying his face into a pastel pink sweater.

“Thanks.”

“What did you think of Kyungsoo’s performance?”

Baekhyun makes a face over Jongin’s shoulder, then composes himself and steps back. He can be an adult about this. “He was amazing. Of course.”

Jongin also raises their eyebrows, like they’re expecting something else.

“What?” Baekhyun blinks. 

“That’s all? Have you seen him yet?”

“Well, no.” Baekhyun shrugs. “I’m supposed to go backstage soon.”

Jongin looks confused for a second, but Baekhyun himself is confused. What are people expecting from him? Everyone’s acting like this is the first time he’s heard Kyungsoo sing. Granted, this is the first time he’s heard him sing  _ those songs _ , but…

Jongin’s phone buzzes and they look down reflexively, smiling. “Sehun is sad he’s missing today.”

This time Baekhyun can’t compose himself in time. Jongin sees the nasty face he makes—but then Baekhyun’s brain catches up to him. “Wait, what? You’re texting Sehun now?”

“Yeah.” Jongin bites their lip. It might be the dim light, but their cheeks look pinker. “We’re hanging out a lot more since the musical. We went on a date last night, actually.”

“Are you kidding?” Baekhyun grips his hair with both hands. He’s at a loss for words. Hot anger bubbles in his stomach, indignation on behalf of his friends. “He’s dating you  _ and  _ Kyungsoo?”

To his surprise, Jongin laughs. “Sehun isn’t dating Kyungsoo. That was like two years ago.”

“But—” Baekhyun stutters. “If Sehun isn’t dating Kyungsoo, then who is?”

This doesn’t make sense. All the pieces should line up. Chanyeol said they were getting back together, Kyungsoo said he was going out on the night Sehun got laid—

It hits him like a truck. Baekhyun feels faint. He reaches for the wall to prop himself up. “You hooked up with Sehun recently,” he recalls. “On a Saturday night.”

Jongin looks at him like he’s insane. “Uh, yeah. I told you that.”

That was the night Chanyeol assumed Kyungso and Sehun got back together. The night Kyungsoo went out—not specifically on a date, he never said that, Baekhyun just assumed—he never met up with his ex-boyfriend. But if Kyungsoo was never interested in getting back together with Sehun, then half of Baekhyun’s motivation for breaking up with him was false. 

God, he should’ve asked Kyungsoo directly what was going on. Who did he dedicate the song to, then? Baekhyun feels a suspicious tingle of doubt. That’s one of his favorite songs…

No. He can’t give himself false hope, it will only crush him later.

“Okay,” Baekhyun sighs, miserable, rubbing his hands over his face. He’s careful not to smear his makeup. “Nevermind—I’m just confused as fuck. I’m happy for you. I meant it when I said you were too good for him, though.”

Jongin smiles. “No, no, we’re not talking about me anymore. Go inside and find Kyungsoo.”

Before Baekhyun can argue, his phone buzzes. Intermission is over and they’re moving backstage. He hugs Jongin goodbye and hurries inside, through the audience and several unlit doorways, momentarily getting lost before turning around and spotting their assigned dressing room.

“We’re on in three acts,” Jongdae says when he opens the door.

The air is so thick with hairspray that Baekhyun almost gags. “Whoa, whose follicles died in here?”

“I’m going to embody  _ Hair _ .” Chanyeol sprays more hairspray into his bangs. He looks like the star of a horror film. “Did you talk to Kyungsoo yet?”

“No, why is  _ everyone  _ asking me that?” Baekhyun tugs the zipper on his keyboard bag too hard and it rips off. “Shit. I’ll see him after the show, anyway.”

He looks up just in time to see Chanyeol and Jongdae exchange a  _ look _ . Baekhyun braces himself for the nauseous jealousy that he expects—which never comes. He looks between them, his two best friends, and feels nothing but excitement.

Thank fuck. He’s finally gotten over himself.

Baekhyun is suddenly and inexplicably grateful to be where he is. Before he loses this moment, he rushes over and pulls Jongdae and Chanyeol into a group hug. His face ends up pushed into Chanyeol’s armpit and Jongdae immediately screams, “My foot, who’s on my fucking foot—”

But it’s worth it.

When the BEDAZZLED BEEGLES take the stage, they’re ready. Baekhyun looks over the audience—their first proper stadium audience—and beams. He can’t tell where his friends are from the blinding spotlights in his eyes, but he can hear the whole crowd clapping as the BEEGLES are introduced. There are some hoots and hollers, probably from Jongin.

“Welcome to Bands.” Jongdae lounges on the microphone, his eyes flashing over the crowd. He looks electric and unstoppable. “We’re the BEEGLES, and this is Hair.”

Chanyeol hits the bass drum. Again, again. The beat picks up and Jongdae slams in with the guitar, Baekhyun right at his heels with a B flat chord progression, and so they begin.

This is the best set they’ve ever performed. Baekhyun can feel it instantly. Energy lights them up. Jongdae sounds like an angel and Baekhyun doesn’t miss a single chord wiping sweat from his forehead. This is real, this is happening. They slam into their second song with barely a minute to breathe, and the crowd is deafening.

For the last song, they slow down. Jongdae turns and beckons him to the microphone. 

Baekhyun’s hands are shaking as he walks downstage and switches places with their lead singer. He clears his throat, feeling a thousand eyes prickling over his body, and says, “We’re gonna play an original for you now. Um, this is my song,  _ Love, Love, Love _ .”

Before he can lose his nerve, he licks his lips and says, “It’s for you.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes and thinks about waking up next to Kyungsoo. His stomach swoops. This is the last chance he has to say what he feels. He’s going to sing his damn heart out. “ _ I want to live here everyday, everyday _ ,” he croons. “ _ Let me live all day by your side _ .”

When the song tapers off, the audience is completely silent. Baekhyun can only hear his racing heart and the blood thundering in his ears, and for a split second he thinks,  _ that’s it, we’re over _ —

Then the crowd explodes. People jump to their feet, clapping, screaming, celebrating. Lights and color flash across the audience so fast Baekhyun can barely process what he’s seeing. But it’s good. It’s so good.

He turns and Jongdae is grinning and waving. Baekhyun copies him, smiling, blinking away tears and light, until the stage goes dark and the MC’s voice echoes through the auditorium, “Wow! That was contestant sixteen, the BEDAZZLED BEEGLES!”

It’s over so fast.

They’re ushered offstage by the crew. Baekhyun is buzzing so hard he nearly crashes into a door in the hallway. Chanyeol catches him, wraps him in a hug, and pulls Jongdae to crash into their backs. “We did it, we did it.”

Baekhyun squeezes out of the embrace and leans on the wall of a dressing room for support. He’s lightheaded. “That was awesome.”

“Holy fuck.” Jongdae wipes fat tears from his face. 

They’re laughing, completely swept up in the moment, and Baekhyun doesn’t see the figure standing behind them at first. Then Jongdae moves to kiss Chanyeol and a space opens. Across the hallway, between two flustered sound techs, is Kyungsoo walking towards them. He’s wearing eyeliner again, just like that night in Queenie Dick’s, and he looks angelic.

Baekhyun jogs to meet him halfway.

“Hey,” he calls. “You were amazing—did you see us just—”

He gets close enough and, instead of hugging him, Kyungsoo grabs his face and kisses him right there in front of everyone. 

He cradles Baekhyun’s face with both hands and presses them up against the wall, smothering him in the best way possible. Pinned and breathless, Baekhyun kisses back, and god, it feels good. 

A whistle surprises him—for a second he forgot they were in public—and he jerks backward. His head slams against the wall. Kyungsoo’s hand immediately reaches around to brush through his hair gently, feeling for a bruise.

Baekhyun is stunned—until he sees that Kyungsoo’s eyes are wide and tears cling to his lashes.

His heart drops. “Are you okay?”

“Did you break up with me because you thought Sehun and I were dating?”

That’s not what he expects to hear. The sound tech walks away. Baekhyun takes Kyungsoo by the elbows and steers him into a dark corner of the hallway, where the music from onstage is muffled and fewer crew members can see them. 

“Um.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Sorta? Yeah.”

“Well, we’re not dating. He’s into Jongin.” Kyungsoo stares at him. “When I went out, I was with a high school friend. That’s it.”

“I just figured out Sehun and Jongin actually—”

In a rush, Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and says, “I don’t want to stop what we’re doing. I want to be with you. For real.”

“Like, dating?” Baekhyun blinks. He thinks he hears giggles from down the hall, but he’s not looking away. Everything about Kyungsoo has him captivated right now.

“Yeah. Officially.”

Baekhyun can’t believe this. The adrenaline from the past thirty minutes is catching up to him now. He wipes sweat from his forehead. Is this real? Is he serious?

“I thought you didn’t want to date because we live together?”

Kyungsoo chews his bottom lip. “Yeah, I was totally lying. I just didn’t know if you were serious so—I wanted boundaries to protect myself. Like you always say.”

It’s a logical explanation. The way Kyungsoo is looking at him now, dark and desperate, speaks to truth. All the little comments from earlier line up in his brain. Everyone else must know—Jongdae and Jongin, at least—what a hilarious misunderstanding this whole debacle was.

At least Baekhyun doesn’t have to waste time considering his options. After these past several weeks, he knows what he wants. Gently he reaches forward and cups Kyungsoo’s cheek.

“Kyungsoo,” he says slowly. “Will you publicly, officially, and exclusively date me?”

His smile is answer enough. This is the kind of smile Kyungsoo normally hides, but now he just kisses Baekhyun and lets the sunshine spill out of him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Did you really write that song?”  _ For me? _

The question hangs incompleted. Baekhyun nods. “It’s for you.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head a little in disbelief. He’s impressed. The light from the hallway casts long shadows over his face, and when he blinks, his lashes look exceptionally dark against his skin. He’s stunning.

“I can’t believe you,” he says. “The song… and the makeup. Baekhyun, you look really good.”

So Baekhyun kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him—

Until down the hall, Chanyeol says, “Hey lovers, they’re announcing the finalists.”

Oops. They break apart, dazed. Kyungsoo is pleasantly pink in the cheeks.

Baekhyun turns to see his bandmates disappearing through a side door and returning to the audience. A tech guy in a blue polo ushers them out the same door, so Baekhyun grabs Kyungsoo’s hand and leads them into the main auditorium. He can’t stop smiling.

They stand huddled in the corner adjacent to the front row. The MC thanks all participants and calls for the crowd to quiet down. There are several fans he didn’t notice before with BEEGLES merchandise. A drumroll begins.

“You’re gonna win,” Kyungsoo whispers in his ear. 

“I already did,” Baekhyun whispers back.

And it’s true.

  
  


(“So what are you gonna do with your share of the five grand?”

“Oh, I’m taking a trip to Italy this summer.”)

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Here's a complete list of songs referenced in this piece:  
> Music of the Night - Phantom of the Opera  
> Pour Some Sugar on Me - Def Leppard  
> Lucky - Jason Mraz  
> To Know Him is To Love Him - Amy Winehouse  
> 42nd Street - 42nd Street the Musical  
> Weightless - All Time Low  
> Doom Days - Bastille  
> Barracuda - Heart  
> Love, Love, Love - EXO  
> Let Me - Zayn  
> Hair - Hair the Musical  
> Modern Love - David Bowie  
> What About Now - Daughtry  
> All This and Heaven Too - Florence + the Machine


End file.
